The Next Door: Under Construction
by bambu1101
Summary: AU: Sequel to Who's The Next Door. While Hudson-Berry apartment is having a huge remodeling, the friends of Finn's and Rachel's get them busy in preparation for their upcoming wedding. Finchel's everyday life with their gleeful friends.
1. Chapter 1

**The Next Door: Under Construction**

**A/N: I can't stay away from the world of '**_**The Boy Next Door**_**' and '**_**Who's The Next Door**_**.' So I decided to write the sequel to '**_**Who's The Next Door**_**' telling Finn's and Rachel's everyday life with their friends before the wedding in two months (so you would know where this story is going). Now Finn and Rachel are residing temporarily in a tiny apartment in West Village while their apartment in Chelsea is under remodeling to combine the next door. I hope you'll enjoy this story too!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee and its characters, ****and any resemblance to real persons or organizations is purely coincidental.**

* * *

**Chapter 1 – August 2017**

"Welcome to Kurt Hummel Grooming Boot Camp!"

Kurt announced in a chirping tone, having stars in his eyes.

The Hudson-Berry wedding was just around the corner. Much as Kurt would like to take command to groom the bride for the wedding, he had no choice. He had to get himself far far away from Santana's arrangement for Rachel, sex involved. That was absolutely the last thing Kurt wanted to get involved in. Who wanted to know about his own brother's and his best friend's sex life? He didn't. No. Matter. What.

So here he was. In the gym he frequently went with his current boyfriend Elliott—it had been six months since they had become exclusive. Instead of grooming the tiny brunette, he decided to groom the groom, which was to tone up the groom's body. Finn, of course, had been indisposed for his fabulous idea, claiming that Rachel would never force him to do such a thing, that she loved the way he looked and would love no matter how he became in the future.

But no. Simply no. He refused Finn's refusal. Well-tailored suits only fit well-built bodies. He was the one to provide his brother with the expensive tux for the wedding. Besides, had Finn said that he needed to go to a gym regularly to excess the extra flesh around his waist after McIntosh incident? Then why not?

Fortunately, he had a friend who was obsessed with maintaining 3% body fat. He also had another friend who kept his amazing abs every guy would die for despite the fact that he was working in the food industry. In addition to the two, he knew a person who once had gone through the police academy physical training.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Kurt Hummel Boot Camp?" Puck rolled his eyes at the guy with a headband-ish bandana which only Olivia Newton-John would ever wear. He pushed himself from the wall which he had been leaning against before approaching Kurt. "Who the fuck do you think initiated you into the police academy training method?"

"You might have initiated me into the specific requirements at the police academy, but I'm not gonna completely copy that method. I invested in this using my ingenuity. This is my idea, which means _my_ Boot Camp," Kurt huffed before turning to his ex-boyfriend. "Right, Blaine?"

The shortest guy smiled at him sheepishly. Kurt and Blaine weren't together now, but they had reconciled as friends right after he had moved on with Elliott. Blaine had been eager to help him out introducing his boxing experiences into Kurt Hummel Boot Camp.

Satisfied, Kurt smirked triumphantly at the Mohawk, who just shook his head and plumped himself down on the floor next to Finn.

"Why am I here?" chimed in Artie, who was definitely not one to have a desire to buff up his body.

"Moral support," Finn mumbled petulantly.

Artie gave Finn a sympathetic smile before sighed in defeat.

"It's not that hard than you think it would be, man," said Sam, who was willing to cooperate with Kurt, patting lightly Finn on the back. He loved his own low fat body.

"Enough babbling," Kurt clapped his hands to get their attention. "And Finn, Mike and Blaine will give you dance lessons after this. Be prepared yourself," he sharply declared.

Finn loudly groaned. This was most certainly not what he wanted in the summer break, or before the wedding for that matter. He really wished that he had skipped the procedures Kurt had been demanding and woken up the next morning to find the wedding already had come.

"Let's get started!"

* * *

"What's this?" Rachel frowned as she took some sort of a notebook from the Latina's hand.

"_Kama Sutra_, only my original version though," Santana answered nonchalantly, continuing handing books to the girls one another. "Not only sex positions, sex toys, etc., but telling specifically how to make your partner's dick come hard."

"Santana, you are a lesbian," confused, Mercedes spoke before looking down at the book cover which was plain white.

"Okay, you should know that I've had more penises in my vagina than you've ever had in your entire life, let alone the number of getting laid with guys per se, you know, more than yours and Yentl's combined," Santana smirked, ignoring Mercedes' rolling her eyes. "Right, Berry? Tell her," she turned her head in Rachel's direction, "who gave you the tips of giving head technique and what Finnocence got in reward for your practice with a dildo."

"Yeah, I-," Rachel took a pause, realizing what she was going to reveal as Tina, sitting next to her, started to giggle, knowing all too well of the details. "Santana!" Rachel hissed, her face reddening furiously. "I rather observe confidentiality concerning the details of our sex life," she huffed, her arms crossing in front of her chest.

"I second that," Mercedes nodded affirmatively.

"Fine," Santana shrugged. "But I guarantee that all you guys will want to try some from those notebook once you open it. And your dickhead husbands won't ever consider tapping other women."

"How can you be so sure?" Quinn asked, giving the Latina a skeptical look. "You know what my idiot of a hubby can be like."

"_You_ know he is all talks, don't you?" Santana pointed out. "He is only acting as if he got lots of attentions from chicks, which however actually he doesn't. And I'm sure the ball is, I mean, his balls already are in your court."

"Yeah, that's not altogether false, but," Quinn hesitated before let out a sigh, shifting on the couch in Santana's and Brittany's household in Bushwick.

"How long have you avoided having sex with him?" Brittany asked as if she could read the mind of the mother of two kids.

Quinn widened her eyes and stared at the other blonde girl. "H-how did you know?"

"My girl can geniusly see things, Quinn. That's her sixth sense," Santana answered for her wife. "But I could see that was coming. It happens once you give childbirth, or you get busy with your kids. In your case, you have to deal with _three_ kids, if you know what I mean."

Quinn deeply sighed. "Not that I don't have needs, you know. But I don't feel sexy enough anymore. And I feel sometimes fat."

"What?" Rachel was dumbfounded at the blonde beauty confession. "How could you feel such a thing about yourself? Nobody would believe you have two kids already!"

"I agree with Rachel," the Asian American woman nodded affirmatively. "But on the other hand, I understand how you feel as well, Quinn," added Tina, who was only one parous other than Quinn. "On top of that, Mike is a chef. How many pounds do you think I've put on since I met him? 20!" she confided.

"Really?" Surprised, Quinn perked up her head to look at Tina. "But you still have sex with your husband, don't you? What made you want to have sex again?"

As Tina was having difficulty in answering in a right way, Santana chimed in. "Alright, guys. This was supposed to be for the Hobbit, but I guess I have to take it up a notch," she turned to face Quinn. "In your case, I'll take care of it later."

With that, Santana looked over the girls and announced.

"Okay, now open your books to page 1!"

* * *

"Hi, baby, how did it go?" Rachel greeted from the kitchen when she heard her fiancé entering the tiny apartment in West Village. They were currently being evacuated from their own apartment in Chelsea because of combining the next door.

"Ugh," Finn groaned, managing to drag himself from the entryway before he collapsed onto the couch. "I generally love Kurt, but I now hate him, so much," frustrated, he grumbled against one of the cushions. "Oof," he let out an irritable voice as Ms. Bonaparte jumped onto his back.

"W-what? Why?" Rachel asked as she emerged out of the kitchen. She didn't know what Kurt was planning for the groom since he hadn't mentioned anything.

Finn tilted his head as he heard his fiancée's bearfooted sounds approaching him. Despite he had been annoyed at his stepbrother and exhausted, he couldn't help but smile at her sight—she was wearing a pair of tiny black shorts, a purple tank top with a huge gold star in front of her chest. And her hands were covered with rosy pink cooking mitts. Cute.

"What did he do?" Rachel asked again as she took off the cooking mitts from her hands.

Finn let out a deep sigh, still lying on his stomach on the couch. "He dragged me into the gym and forced me to buff up my body with vicious exercises. Not only that, Rach, I had to take dance lessons after that," he whined.

"That explains a lot," Rachel said before perched herself on the empty spot by his feet.

"What explains a lot?" Finn closed his eyes, feeling Rachel's warm tiny hands caressing one of his calves.

"Kurt sent me a long email this morning," Rachel sighed, "you know, demanding that I manage to have you intake proper nutrition on a daily basis until the wedding. Sixty Recipes attached, if you must know."

Finn growled against the cushion. "Please tell me he didn't demand that I suffer from having only vegetables for two months!"

"Oh, you don't need to worry about that, Finn," Rachel patted him on his ass. "Well, he expounded the importance of intake of vegetables and fruits in the email, _but_," she emphasized as she heard Finn's groan, "the recipes he attached are mostly for carnivores. And I cooked roast beef for tonight dinner."

"Good," Finn let out a relieved sigh. "But I'm too worn out to move my ass, Rach. I don't even want to move."

"Aren't you hungry?" Rachel giggled.

"Yes, I'm starving," Finn rolled over to get laid down on the back, ignoring Ms. Bonaparte's resistance. "Kurt didn't allow me to fill my stomach before his Boot Camp," he said, rubbing his own stomach. "But I can't get to my feet."

"Okay," Rachel sighed and stood up from the couch. "I'll bring your dish here."

Finn, however, even didn't try to sit up on the couch when Rachel carried the dinner into the living room and placed it on the coffee table. "Finn? You're not gonna eat? You said you were starving," Rachel frowned.

Finn opened his mouth in answer.

"You cannot be serious," dumbfounded, Rachel dropped her jaw open.

She knew that Finn was still in the romantic mood from their recent vacation for 10 days in Paris, which they had decided to carry out as a dry run (not that 'dry' though, if you knew what she meant) for their honeymoon since they couldn't departure for the real honeymoon right after the wedding because of the show Rachel was going to perform as a lead role.

Rachel had landed the role _Fanny Brice_ a month before and started rehearsals once they had gotten back to the City. She really really wanted to win a Tony this time (she had been nominated last year but not won unfortunately) and not wanted to take long days off until next June (if she won this time, that was going to be a little bit problem though, because it meant that they had to prolong going off the honeymoon another few months).

Yet, she was not going to comply with his demand that easily. What had Santana said this afternoon? _Don't feel obligated to comply. Build up your own teasing plans._ Right.

"You're not sick or anything, you're just fatigued. I'm sure you can sit up and eat your food by yourself," Rachel rolled her eyes.

"But I've got cramp in my legs. If you get a leg cramp in the field, you call a medical trainer, which means I'm kinda in a state to be taken care of," Finn insisted.

"So you're saying I'll have to take Rusty to the dog park _alone_?" still unacceptable, Rachel narrowed her eyes, her arms folding in front of her chest.

"No, babe, I didn't mean that," Finn tried to amend. "If you feed me, I'll be fine to come with you. Please Rach?" he pleaded with puppy dog eyes.

_Damn, I'm really a sucker for these puppy dog eyes._

Rachel sighed. "You know, I'll do it because I love you and I don't like Kurt's idea of which he tries to change the way you look. But think about it, Finn, if we had kids here? What do you think they are going to think seeing you behaving like this? They should be perfectly disciplined and we should be their role models."

"I love you too, babe," Finn grinned at her. "And I'll behave when our kids are around us."

"At least you should be sitting up. It'll digest poorly."

When she commanded, Finn just stretched his arms toward her. Rachel rolled her eyes again, wondering how she could stop Kurt from giving her fiancé dreadful exercises.

* * *

Finn hadn't had a sore muscle next morning. However, the thought of that his body was not that aged than he had thought it would be was short lived. Two days after he had been forced into Kurt Hummel Grooming Boot Camp for the first time, he woke up sore all over his body. Thank God, he was in the summer break.

"Finn, are you alright?" Rachel peered into the bedroom after she had returned from the dog park. "Can you get up? Or do you want me to carry the breakfast here?"

Finn's eyes sparkled. "Am I allowed to eat in bed? Are you going to join me?"

"Yes and no," Rachel answered firmly. "I have another two children to be fed in this apartment," with that, she disappeared into the kitchen.

Approximately twenty minutes later, Rachel returned to the bedroom, carrying his breakfast on the tray. "I've got some fresh grapes on the way back home," she said before quickly adding seeing Finn winced at troublesomeness of peeling grapes as he sat up. "Don't worry, I already peeled them," she assured as she placed the tray on his lap. "Anything else?"

"Perfect," Finn happily responded, already aiming for the fluffy pancakes. "You're perfect," he said, munching.

Rachel beamed at him before sitting on the bed by his feet. "So," she started, "why didn't he include me in dance lessons? I should be included because I am your dance partner at the wedding," she whined.

"According to Kurt, obviously my dancing is not up to par," Finn snarled as he finished his pancakes and eggs. "Well, that's true though," he said before busying himself popping grapes into his mouth.

"But I'm not good at dancing either," Rachel mumbled. "I want to be included," she pouted.

"You aren't 'not good' at dancing, Rach. You could master any dance in a day," Finn pointed out. "Besides, you're busy with rehearsals and wedding planning."

"It's true that I'm busy with those things," Rachel responded. "But what I don't get is why you need dance lessons two months before the wedding. Other than our first dance, all we have to do is to sway."

"I know right?" Finn agreed. "I can't believe I did tango. With Mike!"

"Huh?" Rachel made a face. "We're not going to tango at the wedding! I don't tango! Why did he choose tango of all others for your dance lessons?"

"I don't think that was Kurt's choice," Finn said before taking a swig of his coffee, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Although he said that it was some kind of remedy for my uncoordinated legs."

"Whose choice then?" Rachel tilted her head to one side with a frown.

"Blaine's. I reckon that he wants to win him back," Finn answered with a shrug.

"Oh," Rachel took a pause, "was Blaine there too?"

"Yep," Finn nodded as he put the tray away from his lap.

"Interesting."

"He helped Kurt out to establish his Boot Camp method. And Kurt didn't seem to mind doing tango with him, if you want to know," Finn informed, arching his eyebrows. "Now tell me how your meeting with the girls went. You didn't tell me what that was for."

"Um," Rachel shifted on the bed uncomfortably, spreading her fingers on her lap. "I can't tell."

"Why? Why not?"

"I will tell or do you eventually, but now, I just can't," Rachel chewed the inside of her mouth.

"Do me?" Finn widened his eyes, swallowing thickly, as he got at what his fiancée was implying. "I don't mind if you show me how to do me now," he said huskily, stretching out his arms toward Rachel.

"Finn!" Rachel slapped his hand before getting to her feet. "I said that I would, but now I couldn't. Besides, didn't you say that you couldn't move your body? And I have to go to rehearse in half an hour."

"I'm fully capable to move one particular region," Finn shifted his gaze to his lower region. "All you have to be is my private cowgirl, babe," he pleaded.

Rachel stared at Finn's puppy dog eyes for a moment before narrowing her eyes. "I'm not gonna fall for those eyes, Finn. And you should get ready to go for whatever Kurt's planning," she picked up the tray and pressed her lips to his cheek, then emerged out of the bedroom.

Hearing her words "Kurt's planning," Finn groaned loudly and pressed his face against the pillow.

This was definitely going to be a long two months.

* * *

**Please review :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you for reading my story and sending the responses! First I apologize for my mistake that I uploaded the first chapter written the date of the story 2016, which I've corrected. The story is in 2017 (in this story Finn is 28 at this point, turning 29 in a few weeks, Rachel is three younger than Finn).**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee and its characters, ****and any resemblance to real persons or organizations is purely coincidental.**

* * *

**Chapter 2 – August 2017**

Finn exhaled deeply before pushing the thick glass door which led to the private gym at the Upper East Side apartment building where his parents were residing and Kurt had summoned him to.

"Kurt," Finn sighed as he saw his stepbrother trotted at the drop of a hat to approach him with a huge grin once he entered the locker room. "I don't think I can do exercises today," he threw his bag into a locker before plumping down on one of the benches between the lockers.

"Oh, don't worry," Kurt dismissed him off, waving his hand. "We're not going to do my Boot Camp today. I bet your muscle pain is passing its peak, so today is a spa day to warm your muscles up for tomorrow!" he announced clapping his hands.

"No way, Kurt," Finn groaned. "Dudes don't enjoy the spa. And, besides, this gym doesn't have a spa faculty."

"There're all sorts of spa, Finn," Kurt explained. "This gym has a sauna, hot tub, and massage rooms too–"

"What?" Puck banged the door of the locker room open, overhearing Kurt's suggestion through the door. "No shit. Not gonna box or Boot Camp?" he roughly opened one of the lockers to put his bag away into it.

"Puck, the station you're serving has its own training room as far as I'm concerned. If you want to work out, do it at the station by yourself," Kurt rolled his eyes before murmuring under his breath. "A bad penny always turns up."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Puck narrowed his eyes at the well-dressed guy.

Little did Kurt and Finn know that Puck had needed to vent his frustration (sexual frustration, to be precise). He needed extreme exercises, like Kurt Hummel Grooming Boot Camp (not that he had accepted the name though). That was why he had come down all the way to Upper East Side from Bronx after he had found out where his best friend was heading for.

As for Kurt, he wanted to discuss his stepbrother's bachelor party _without_ Puckerman to be honest since he was sure that the Mohawk was going to suggest some absurd cliché, like going to a strip club, or worse, a jello wrestling.

The thoughts made him scrunch his nose with distaste. "Nothing," Kurt collected himself.

"Oh, I get it, Lady-Hummel," Puck smirked as he saw Kurt's expression. "You were going to proceed with the bachelor party without me, weren't you? Sorry, dude, not gonna happen."

"We can't let you handle with it, Puckerman," Kurt said, neatly pushing his bangs aside.

"We?" Puck mocked. "Ask Huds, then. I don't think he's gonna agree with any idea of yours."

"Finn, tell him he's wrong," Kurt turned his head to see his brother, folding his arms across his chest.

"Huh?" Finn, who had been texting his other friends, Mike, Artie and Sam to come over as soon as possible to bail him out or join him for help, shot his head. "About what?"

"Your bachelor party," Kurt responded as he circled the lockers to hide himself to change.

"Oh," Finn broke into a smile. He turned his head toward his mohawked friend. "What do you have in your mind? A strip club?" he asked expectantly.

"Did you hear that?" Puck grinned triumphantly. "You don't fall under that department, Hummel," he yelled in another isle's direction.

"I resent your discrimination against homosexuality, if you insinuate it," Kurt huffed, poking his head out of another isle between the lockers.

"Whoa," Puck held his hands up in the air in defense. "I'm not insinuating anything. I'm just stating the fact that you don't get my boy's needs."

"So," Finn chimed in, sensing that the two of them were starting to bicker over small things, "What are we gonna do now? Do I need to change?"

Kurt, still flaring his nostrils feeling insulted, let out a sigh. "First, sauna. Then you're going to a men's salon which I already reserved for you, you know, to manscape" he said, wearing his fluffy white bathrobe, returning to the place where Finn and Puck were standing.

"M-manscape?" Finn squeaked, stopping his hand from taking off his shirt. "Kurt, I appreciate your enthusiasm about our wedding, but don't you think it's getting ridiculous a little bit? The wedding is still two months ahead and I don't have excessive body hair!"

"Finn," Kurt approached him, placing his hand on his arm. "I'm sure you have it down there," he dropped his gaze to the lower part of Finn's body.

"W-what?" Finn choked. "No! No fucking way!" he shrugged Kurt's hand off violently. "I'm definitely not gonna shave down there."

"Oh, this is gonna be fun!" Puck chuckled, already clad only in a towel around his waist. "You know, Huds, manscaping at a salon is not that bad. Or better than you're given a lap dance at a strip club, 'cause chicks grip your dick and caress your nuggets! With bare hands!"

"Puck…" Kurt pinched the bridge of his nose before shaking his head. "The salon that I reserved has only male esthetician," he corrected, his arm across his chest. "Do you think I'm gonna let other girls touch his genitals? Rachel would kill me."

"Fuck, no!" Finn shouted, looking at his brother in horror. "No, no, no. No. Fucking. Way. My junk and balls are no men's land! Nobody, I mean, no men can access down here!"

"Come on, Finn, grown up," Kurt responded nonchalantly. "Unkempt pubes are unsanitary. Everyone knows that shaving pubes are important nowadays, not only for girls, but for guys as well."

"Yeah, Huds, it's common sense," Puck assisted, still chuckling, imagining how horrified and embarrassed his best friend could be in a vulnerable position when some guys shaved his public hair.

"Fuck you, Puckerman!" Finn nudged the Mohawk's shoulder violently. "If you love it so much, then you should go there instead of me," he said, turning to his brother. "Kurt, change the name to his on the reservation."

"Fuck no! I won't let guys to do the shit!" horrified, Puck protested frantically. "Besides, I already did," he murmured.

"What? Get the fuck out of here! You did manscape?" surprised, Finn widened his eyes, wrapping a towel around his waist to take off his jeans and underwear. "When? For what?"

"Didn't you listen to your brother? He told you the reason," Puck tried to put up a front, ignoring Finn's other questions. "Don't need to change the name, Hummel. And hit the sauna already," he roughly closed the locker shut, then emerged out of the room in a hurry.

Finn and Kurt exchanged quizzical looks.

"What was that?" Kurt made a face, turning to his stepbrother. "He's acting so weird. Did he have a fight with Quinn again or something?"

"I have no idea," Finn just shrugged.

* * *

Despite Mike, Artie and Sam couldn't make it to the sauna, much to Finn's relief, he narrowly managed to escape from manscaping which Kurt had demanded persistantly.

And now, he, Puck and Kurt were heading for the bar where Sam had opened as his own six months before in Lower East Side. They were going to meet up with Mike, Artie, Blaine and Elliott there.

"I can smell the gel hair's attempt to get back together with you, Hummel," Puck said, passing by Finn who was getting the door open for the other two. "Doesn't your new beau get jealous or some shit?"

"Oh, Elliott and I have a very mature and healthy relationship. We're working out very well because we reside separately, I guess," Kurt responded. "Thanks, Finn," he added with an appreciative smile as he turned his head to his brother. "Maybe it was too early for Blaine and me to decide to live together."

"So you're saying that Hudson and Berry will be breaking things off at some point? They have been living together, what, forever? Since they met?" Puck chuckled, trying to get Finn's nerve to entertain himself.

"Shut it, Puckerman!" annoyed, Finn yelled, punching the Mohawk on his shoulder. "What the fuck is your problem anyway?" he murmured with a frown pulling out his cell phone out of his back pocket as the phone went off.

"You better stay away from the lovebird, Puckerman," Kurt assisted. "And I'm not planning to get back together with Blaine if you must know. I'm good with Elliott. Besides, I called someone to fix Blaine up tonight. Oh," he stopped continuing as he found Mike and Artie already waiting for them on a round sofa by the corner. He gestured to the place before making his way over to the sofa. "Hi, guys."

"Who did you call to fix him up, Kurt?" Artie asked when the three of them perched on the sofa to join.

"David Karofsky," Kurt answered.

"As in the guy who'd been bullying you in high school?" Finn shot up his head from his cell phone with a shocked expression. "Is he gay?"

"Oh, come on, Hudson," Puck chimed in. "Everyone knows it. He was so obvious. He always made the topic of homosexuality so off-limits. Or rather, he displayed some feelings of shit toward the people who already came out of the closet to hide his fear."

"You know, he was afraid to be exposed who he really was," Kurt added.

"That's why Hummel was his main target," Puck concluded. "He must have been in love with this guy," he said, ruffling Kurt's hair.

"Don't be jerk!" Kurt shrugged Puck's hand off stopping his hair from being messed up before pulling a small mirror out of his bag to re-do his hair.

"But that's not okay," Finn frowned. "He was unable to come out doesn't mean he had a free pass to torment anyone," he spat. "Oh man, I should've noticed it. Sorry, bro," he patted Kurt on his shoulder apologetically.

"No, no, it's okay," Kurt dismissed him off with a wave of his hand. "I figured it out way afterward too. Dave really regretted what he had done to me and officially apologized when we bumped each other a few years back. Do you know that he has attempted to commit suicide when he was in college? He must have been feeling in his own pain for a long time. Now he's working at a local Lesbian, Gay and Bisexual Young Kids Support Group. He has a right to be happy too."

The gang at the table silently listened to Karofsky's story that Kurt was telling and just nodded affirmatively.

"So? Is that from Rachel?" Kurt changed the subject as he saw Finn fiddling his cell phone. "Can she come over to join us soon?"

"Yeah," Finn responded putting the phone away into his pocket. "Um, she says that the girls are joining us too."

"Girls?" Puck arched his eyebrow. "You mean, Quinn too?"

"Yeah," Finn nodded as he took his cell phone from his pocket to read the text from his fiancée again making sure. "Why? Did Quinn tell you anything?"

"I've got a similar text from Tina," Mike added before Puck could open his mouth. "They'll be in half an hour, I suppose."

"Mercedes, too," Sam called out as he approached the table. "She texted me telling that Brittany is gonna bring someone she knows for Artie," he informed.

"Really?" Artie's eyes lightened up. "Someone Brittany knows means she is a dancer too?" he enthused rubbing his hands together. "Do you guys know how flexible dancers are?" his mind already was going a mile a minute.

Puck scoffed, trying his best to suppress his jealousy at Artie's potential hook-up.

"So? What can I get you guys," Sam turned to the three who had arrived later.

"On tap," Puck said as he sank himself further into the sofa.

"Same her–"

"No, Finn," Kurt cut him off. "Red Eye for him and white wine for me, please."

"What?" Finn dropped his jaw open. "Don't use your own discretion, Kurt! I don't like the taste of tomato juice! And I'm gonna have whatever I want!"

"Finn! Do you realize how high in calorie the beer is? All the efforts I've put you in will be wasted," Kurt reprimanded.

"I didn't ask for it," Finn rolled his eyes. "Sam, on tap. Thanks," he corrected, ignoring Kurt's resistance.

Sam did thumb-up at Finn understandingly before leaving the table to get them their orders.

* * *

About half an hour later, Rachel arrived at Sam's bar with Tina, Mercedes, Santana, Brittany and Quinn.

"Don't I look slutty or anything?" Quinn looked down at herself. She was forced to wear a black mini dress which had no low cut in the front but in the back. Her shiny blonde hair was messy but chic and sexy pulled up. Her make-up was simple but smoky. Accessary was only a pair of diamond drop earrings (and her wedding band, which Santana insisted that she should have it on because it made her more attractive to men at bars).

"Are you kidding me?" Rachel shook her head furiously. "You look absolutely beautiful, Quinn."

"You gonna stay away from us, Berry," Santana turned to Rachel, looking at her up and down, before shaking her head with a sigh.

"Why?" Rachel frowned, looking down at her own attire which was a white sundress, green, blue and yellow striped, with a pair of flat shoes. "What's wrong with my clothes?"

"Your outfits are always wrong," Santana rolled her eyes.

"Finn loves this dress!" Rachel retorted.

"Good for you, or him. Frankenteen must be an admirer of Nabokov," Santana snorted. "My aim for tonight is to have Puckerman remember, or rather learn how to woo his woman by himself witnessing other guys doing that flawlessly to Q. The Mohawk should be schooled," she reminded her. "If you stay with us, my plan will be spoiled."

Little did Rachel know that Santana and the other girls wanted to discuss the details of the bachelorette party without the bride. That was the reason why Santana had to get Rachel away from the girls too.

"Fine!" Rachel pouted, her arms across her chest.

"You're not alone, Rachel," Brittany chimed in. "Kitty will be joining the guys too," she turned to the blonde dancer who was the same height as Rachel. "I'm going to introduce you to their friends, Kitty," she said, earning the sheepish nods from the girl.

Once the girls entered the bar, they didn't make their ways over to the round sofa where the boys occupied, but chose to make a beeline for the bar counter, except for Rachel, Brittany and the new girl.

"Hi, guys," Rachel greeted waving her hand as she got to the table, earning the same greetings from the guys.

"Hi, baby," Finn pulled her to sit next to him before placing his lips to her cheek.

"This is Kitty," Brittany started to introduce the girl to the boys. "This is Finn, Rachel's fiancé slash Kurt's–" she gestured to the guy with a scarf around his neck, "brother. Puck, Q's hubby. Mike, Tina's. And Artie. He's currently working on his original script for a Broadway show. Right, Artie?"

"Yeah," Artie nodded furiously with a huge grin before adjusting his glasses with his forefinger. "Nice to meet you, Kitty," he stood up offering a hand for her to shake.

After Kitty had exchanged greetings with everyone at the table and a handshake with Artie, Artie nudged the arm of Mike who was sitting next to him.

"Dude, move over your ass," Artie demanded, which caused Rachel driven out of the sofa. "Have a seat, beautiful lady," grinning, he patted the empty spot beside him for Kitty, oblivious to the fact that the sofa was for six people at the maximum.

Finn immediately got out of the sofa too as he saw Rachel's nostrils start flaring in annoyance at Artie. "Brittany, take here," he offered the spot where he had been occupying before placing his hand on Rachel's shoulder. "Baby, why don't we get your drink at the bar?" he grabbed her by the hand in his and walked over to the bar.

"Why does everyone make me an outcast?" Rachel complained with a pout once they got to the opposite side of the bar counter from the other girls standing.

"Artie didn't mean to push you away from there, Rach. He was just excited to meet a new girl," Finn reasoned. "He's been depressed since he got ditched by Julie. You know, because of his clam? So be happy for him. And I guess the guys just wanna discuss the bachelor party or the bachelorette party without us."

"Oh," Rachel's eyes lit up hearing the words of 'bachelor' and 'bachelorette' parties, clapping her hands excitedly. "Do you have any ideas what they are planning?"

"Nope. But," Finn shrugged, "I have no doubt that Kurt and Puck will be erupting into the World War III over the bachelor party."

"I could see that," Rachel giggled before beckoning a bartender to get Finn's and her orders.

"Rachel? Uh, do you know anything going on between Puck and Quinn by the way?" Finn asked after he ordered another beer on tap. "Puck acted kinda strange this afternoon."

"Um," Rachel bit her bottom lip, wondering whether or not she was allowed to tell Finn about the married couple's recent sexless life.

Finn examined Rachel's face before concluding. "So something's wrong with them," he tilted his head to see the opposite side of the bar.

And, at the exact moment when Finn found Quinn left alone at the bar, some guy wearing a nice suit approaching Quinn. Out of the corner his eyes, he witnessed Santana and the other girls plastering pleased looks on their faces. He frowned. What were they up to? Then he turned around to look in Puck's direction, wondering whether or not he noticed his wife being hit on.

His mohawked best friend, however, was engrossed in whatever the conversation he was having with the boys (now Elliott and Blaine joined them, Brittany and Kitty left the table to join the girls).

"Uh, Rachel?"

"Hmm?" Rachel turned her head toward Finn, taking a sip of her red wine.

"How come she's drinking al–"

"Hey."

Kurt interrupted calling out from behind the two before Finn could finish his further questions about Puckermans.

Finn turned around to find his stepbrother standing with David Karofsky.

* * *

While Finn and Rachel were stuck with Kurt and Karofsky (later Blaine joined them since Kurt beckoned him to) and the boys were still discussing something, the girls, at the standing tables at the other side across from the boys on the round sofa, were observing upon the guys who had been trying to hit on Quinn from afar.

"Is he fucking kidding me?" Santana dropped her jaw open as she saw Puck still not noticing that already five eligible (by her own standard) guys had come on to his wife in a span of thirty minutes.

"I'm done," Quinn called out approaching the girls at the standing table.

"No, you're not," Santana placed her hands on Quinn's shoulders to turn her around to go back to the bar forcibly. "You should talk with the last guy who hit on you more."

"How come?" Quinn frowned.

"I think the last guy could be most helpful for your idiot of a husband or yourself," Santana encouraged.

"What made you think of that?" Quinn looked at the Latina skeptically.

"Judging by the way he dresses, carries himself, and gestures at your speaking, he's got a great deal of experience. He's seen it all, you know, like, bereaved of his wife or something," Santana answered nonchalantly.

Quinn stared at Santana as if sprouts had begun horning from the head of the Latina. "Even if your hunch is correct–"

"Not a hunch, but a cluster analysis. It's well substantiated," Santana cut her off to correct. "The data are on my laptop."

"Even if your _analysis_," Quinn amended, shaking her head, "is correct, what does talking with him have to do with our sexual problems?" she bluntly asked in a low voice. "What's your point?"

"Talking with the guy could clarify what's missing in your husband, or better, what you want from Puck," Santana answered sincerely. "And then Puck will eventually realize what his problems are too."

Still skeptical, Quinn kept staring at the Latina. Yet, to be honest, she had wanted to have a talk with the last guy more since he, unlike the other guys who had tried to hit on her, hadn't seemed to look for some hook-up but just want to have a mature conversation with her.

Quinn let out a sigh as she glanced at her husband still talking childishly with the boys. "Well, I'll give it a try," she shrugged. With that, she walked away from Santana.

* * *

Finally having been emancipated from the role of the third wheel, Finn and Rachel could leave Blaine and Karofsky alone at the bar counter.

"So," Finn started as he dragged his fiancée into a small couch a few seats away from the round sofa where the boys and Kurt were still talking animatedly. "About what I was asking earlier?"

"Of what?" Rachel asked in answer as she seated on the couch next to Finn.

"About Quinn and Puck."

"That," Rachel glanced at Quinn then at Puck before letting out a sigh. "I believe that they really love each other, but, uh, how long have they been together?"

"Uh, almost decade," Finn informed. "About fifteen years since they met."

Rachel nodded. "And you've seen them going through a lot of ups and downs, right?"

"Yeah. And three times on the brink of divorce," Finn added.

"But they're still together," Rachel said taking Finn's hand in hers and idly tracing his palm with her forefinger. "I'm not an expert of relationships, but uh, I think that the longer two people stay married, the more ups and downs they have to go through increase, because it's almost impossible for them to keep up with their love for one another on the same level, you know, mentally, emotionally, and um, physically," she hesitated letting out her last word, but tried not to emphasize it.

"Did they have a fight?" Finn turned his palm over to hold her hand in his before looking in Puck's direction with a frown.

"I don't think so," Rachel entwined her fingers with his. "But I'm sure that there's a tiny disruption between them. I don't know Noah sees that crack yet, but Quinn sees it. And she definitely wants him to see it. Did that account for what you wanted to know?" she said cupping her cheek in her empty hand, the elbow on the table, staring at Finn.

"I guess so," Finn tried to get over Rachel's explanation.

"They can make it, Finn, this time again," Rachel added. "And I want to go through with whatever issues standing in our way in the future, Finn, with you. Together."

Finn stared at her for a moment before breaking into a smile. "So do I, Rach," he stretched out his other arm toward her bangs pushing them aside with his fingers. Then he leaned his face down to give her a chaste kiss.

"Okay, enough talking about Puckermans," Rachel straightened up on the couch. "So? What did you do with Kurt today? Did he try to embarrass you?"

Finn groaned. "Can you believe he tried to drag me into a men's salon for manscaping!?"

"Seriously?" Rachel widened her eyes. "So now you have, um, nothing there?" she dropped her gaze at Finn's groin licking her bottom lip.

"No!" Finn shook his head furiously. "I refused to–, wait," he stopped as he saw her expression. "Did you want me to shave down there?"

Rachel shot up her head. "Ah," she hesitated. "Either is fine by me. If you don't want to, then don't need to. But, uh," she leaned closer to Finn's face, "I don't mind shaving your hair if you want me to?" she whispered.

This time Finn was the one to widen the eyes. "W-what?" he choked before swallowing thickly.

"And," Rachel continued, "you can shave mine too."

"Tonight?" Finn asked expectantly.

"You can't mine tonight because I've just bikini waxed a week before, but," now Rachel's cheeks turned rosy pink, "yes, I can yours."

"Then let's get out of here."

Later the night, after having snuck away from the bar leaving their friends there, Finn found letting the love of his life shave his pubes so erotic and decided to add it to their foreplay.

* * *

**Please review :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you for reading my story and sending the responses!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee and its characters, ****and any resemblance to real persons or organizations is purely coincidental.**

* * *

**Chapter 3 – August 2017**

"Rachel? Earth to Rachel?"

"Huh?" Rachel snapped out of her reverie when Mercedes shook her shoulders.

"Are you even with us?" Santana gave a look at Rachel, not bothering to hide her annoyance with the brunette. "You know, we're here because of finalizing your bachelorette party plan."

"Sorry," Rachel huddled up herself on the chair in a restaurant dropping her gaze at her lap in embarrassment, her cheeks turning pink.

"Oh, I know that look," Tina giggled. "You're still thinking about that night, aren't you? Where did you guys go after sneaking out of Sam's bar? Or should I say _what_ you did after that?" she gave her a meaningful look, nudging Rachel's arm lightly.

"_Which do you like?" she asked stepping into the bathroom before placing neatly some sort of manscaping tools (which she had already sterilized while Finn was taking the shower) on a clean towel on the vanity. "To be bare completely or trimmed up?"_

"_Honestly? I have no idea 'cause I've never done this before. Plus the topic's never been brought up among the guys either." Finn answered as he turned off the shower. "Which do __**you**__ like?" he asked pulling the shower curtain open, taking a larger towel from Rachel._

"_Um," she bit her bottom lip._

_On the way back home from the bar, her head had been going a million different directions. Despite she had declared her shaving Finn's pubes, she'd absolutely had no idea how to do it to be honest. Sure, she had shaved her legs and her own pubes by herself so many times, but this was a completely different story._

_So she furiously googled to get some tips of proper way to shave men's genitals in the cab. She (they) had even stopped by a drug store nearby their current apartment to buy whatever she had thought she (they) would need._

_Now it remained for her to carry it out._

"_The hair above and the both sides of your penis would be better to be trimmed because it'd look still manly and sexy I suppose. But, uh, behind it and the other areas," she blushed, looking down at the floor, "would be better to be shaved, I guess."_

"_You mean, uh–" Finn chewed the inside of his cheeks stopping his hand from drying himself._

"_Your scrotums and perineum, yes," she spoke as fast as possible._

"_You'll shave my balls and gooch too?" Finn breathed heavily._

_She smiled sheepishly then nodded. "It might be of benefit to both of us," she said looking at him through her eyelashes, her hands wringing beside her body._

_Finn stared at her for a good minute._

"_Oh," he finally let out a word grasping the meaning of her words._

"_Yeah," Rachel slowly approached Finn before taking the towel from his hand and kneeling down in front of him._

"_Wait," Finn pulled her up by the arms. "You should take off your clothes too," he said huskily, his eyes darkened._

"_Okay."_

"Okay, Berry. Listen up," Santana snapped her fingers to get Rachel's attention.

"You've gone to somewhere again," Tina nudged her again with a grin. "Where have you been?"

"I'll tell you later," Rachel whispered in Tina's ear, hoping that her face didn't turn red.

"Anyway," Santana narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Rachel before clearing her throat to go on, "Tina booked the venue. Now all we have left is costume shopping."

"Costume?" Kurt frowned. "Much as I'm thrilled to sate my curiosity since I've never seen those kinds of things before, but I don't understand why we need to wear some costume to see them. Aren't we going to just taste another universe to experience making heart rate speeding up, are we? What is the proper costume anyway?"

"We're supposed to wear the same kind of costume as the performers do," Santana answered. "Party goers must be a part of the show."

Kurt arched his eyebrow. "Hmm," he folded his arms across his chest. "In that case…," he stopped speaking, wondering what costume he should pick up (he was not gonna wear stereotypical ones, ever).

"Is it really a must?" Mercedes asked to make sure, yet her mind already went to one specific costume.

"It is," Santana said firmly standing up from the chair. "Come on, guys. We should get going!"

* * *

Finn repeatedly shifted on the couch in Artie's apartment while shooting zombies.

It'd been a couple of days since Rachel had trimmed and shaved his private parts. Even though she had been taking care of his sensitive spots much to his liking with some sent-free after-shaving gel at that night and the following mornings, as he had been warned, it was getting itchy as days passed and he couldn't help it.

"What're you doing?" Artie made a funny face as he glanced at Finn stirring restlessly on the couch. "Have you got the clap too?" he joked.

"Whoa," Sam did a double take at Finn and jumped up a little on the couch next to Finn. "How did you get that shit? Don't tell me you're fucking around without a bag."

"Are you a nutcase?" Not bothering to look at Sam, Finn shoved him over with his elbow which caused Sam to stumble and get shot from behind.

"Dammit! Dude! You got me shot!" Sam yelled at Finn throwing his controller away in annoyance.

"Dude! Why do you think I'm fucking around? Did you lose your train of thought or something? I'm getting married!" Finn shot back at the blonde, his eyes still fixed on the TV screen.

"Oh, I get it," Puck chimed in as he finished talking on the phone with whomever it was. "You bowed before Kurt and your flute got gripped by some dudes, didn't you?"

"What?" Artie shot up his head to see the Mohawk who was reading some text on his cell phone. "What do you mean?" he shifted his gaze from Puck to Finn. "You experimented on the other team? Before wedding?" he misunderstood.

"W-what? No!" Finn screeched looking at Artie in horror, a deep shade of red color plastered on his entire face since Puck almost hit the nail on the head. "Shit!" he cursed. His taking his eyes away from the TV screen made him out of the video game too.

"You're flushed," Sam pointed. "Care to explain?"

Finn sighed before throwing his controller onto the arm chair across from the couch. "Well, I kinda get itchy down there because of shaving my balls, but," he held up his hand to prevent Puck twisting his story, "not that done at a salon where Kurt had reserved for me. I shaved at my own place."

"That's it?" Sam sounded disappointed. "Don't you have more story to tell? 'Cause everybody does that, right?" he looked over trying to get affirmative nods from the other guys. Yet, he got it only from Mike. "What? You guys don't?" he looked at Puck then Artie. "I do at least once every other week."

"You do?" Finn widened his eye. "By yourself?"

"Yeah, I–" Sam shrugged. "Wait. What's that supposed to mean? Why did you have to ask '_by myself_'? You did–"

"Rachel shaved you, didn't she?" Artie said taking the hint. "Damn! Details, Finn, details! Tell me how you got her to do that!" he said rubbing his hands together ready to hear him out and hoping someone (maybe Kitty) someday would do that for him.

"It's not like I did get her to do that," Finn blurted out. "She vol– Oh shit," he cursed himself again realizing that his tongue had just slipped.

"I knew it," Puck said sporting an evil grin on his face. "I knew that Berry loves some kinky shit."

"Hold on," Mike chimed in before turning to the Mohawk. "How do you know that you get itchy down there after shaving?"

"For some reason, Puck's been to some men's salon to be shaved," Finn grinned in satisfactory at the Mohawk digging his own grave.

"The guy proclaimed Puckzilla himself did go to a men's salon?" Artie chuckled.

Puck mumbled incoherently before pulling himself. "We've got something more important to talk about here. Check this out," he held his cell phone up in the air trying to distract the other guys from the men's salon subject. "I've got a piece of information about Berry's bachelorette party out of Hummel."

"Really?" Finn shot up his head oblivious to prying into whatever Puck had been holding out on. "Rachel's not told me anything about it."

"Mercedes either," Sam joined.

"Neither has Tina," Mike nodded.

"Somehow Q keeps her mouth shut too," Puck said. "That's why Moses sent me here," he puffed out his chest. "Hummel dropped very valuable hints as to where they are going and what they are planning. And guess what?" he looked over the guys. "They're gonna party at some haunted house in Long Island."

"Huh?" Artie frowned. "I don't understand why they keep it from us to be honest. It sounds boring to me."

"I know right? That's so Hummel, don't you think? They have no brain to have fun. So I was thinking," Puck smirked, "we could make it much funner."

"What are you getting at?" Mike cautiously asked with a frown.

"We're gonna take over zombies roles," Puck proudly announced, "and scare the shit out of them!"

"Ooohh, sounds really fun!" Artie shimmied excitedly while Sam nodded affirmatively with two thumb-ups. "I've got an idea! How about we'll disguise as zombies like MJ's _Thriller_?"

"Puck! I'm not gonna sabotage Rachel's party, and I won't let you, either," Finn admonished.

"Think about it, Hudson," Puck lightly tapped the side of his head with his forefinger. "What do you think you could get after that? Have you never seen scary movies with Berry?"

Finn tilted his head to one side summoning his memories out of his brain cells. A small grin crept to his lips when he remembered the night after their scary movies marathon. Yep, not only had she been all over him after that but so eager to have sex with him whatever the reasons had lied in her. If they could scare her mortally and he would be the one appearing smoothly to save her as her knight in shining armor, it would be… hmmm…

"I'm glad you see it my way," Puck smirked as he saw Finn's expression.

"Fine, I'm game," Finn quickly changed his mind, not noticing that he was being manipulated. "But I don't think we're gonna disguise as cheap zombie shit like _Thriller_. Or else, it'll be a complete farce like _The Toxic Avenger_."

"What's wrong with _Thriller_ and _The Toxic Avenger_?" Artie retorted. "Both of them are immortal masterpieces! Well, the latter is one in grade B motion pictures though."

"Order, order," Puck chimed in. "We've got time to decide what we're wearing," he said firmly before turning to see Mike. "You in?"

Mike just shrugged.

"Alright," Puck nodded in satisfactory manner. "Now I'm gonna tell you how to take over the roles…"

* * *

"No, no, no. No!" Dakota Stanley yelled at the couple for the umpteenth time looking at them totally in disgust.

Rachel and Finn almost reached their boiling point as a so-called music director/choreographer named Dakota Stanley who Kurt had introduced to them opposed everything they said. It was not the wedding of the short guy (shorter than Rachel was), but _their_ wedding, for God's sake!

"Uugghhh!" Rachel held her hands up in the air in frustration. "It's our song! I'm definitely not gonna change it, Mr. Stanley!"

"Who do you think I am, big nose?" Stanley spat.

Rachel flared her nostrils as Stanley touched her sore spot.

"Now hold on a second!" Finn chimed in as he hooked his fingers on the red thing belt wrapped Rachel's waist to prevent her from attacking the old dude. Finn was sure that visible steam was coming out of her ears at any minute.

"Oh what was that, Frankenteen? Why don't you wipe that dopey look off your face and get some oil for those soles which haven't allowed you to follow the basic turn?" Stanley snorted.

"What's wrong with you?" Finn shot back at the shortest guy in the dance studio in annoyance.

Stanley gave them a look as if they were the ones who had deaf ears. "What's wrong with me?" he screeched. "What's wrong with me is that you're freakishly tall! I feel like a woodland creature! Plus, your song list is totally lame. Especially for the first dance. The song doesn't suit any choreography."

"You know what?" Rachel placed her hands on her hips. "You're fired," she forwarded closer to Stanley looking down at him. "And I'm taller than you."

Stanley stood at full height in an attempt to tower over Rachel making himself look bigger if it was possible. "Fine. You'll never dance properly with my choreography at any rate anyway. You both suck!" with his sore grapes, he turned on heel to exit from the dance studio flipping his scarf mincingly.

As soon as Stanley got out of the studio, Rachel pulled her cell phone out of her pocket to ring Kurt. She tapped her foot impatiently until Kurt answered his phone.

"_How are–"_

"Kurt! Dakota Stanley is a horrible person!" she accused cutting him off.

"_Hello to you too, Rachel. Yes, I know he is because the more someone's got a natural gift for something the more difficult he gets for the others to handle. I know someone like that. Don't you ring a bell, Rachel? Yes, Diva, it's you."_

While Rachel couldn't decide that she had just been insulted or complimented, Finn snatched her cell phone from her hand to talk to his stepbrother on behalf of his fiancée.

"Kurt," Finn started. "What were you thinking? He's insufferable!"

"_Of course he is. That's why he's expensive."_

"We're not gonna spend our money for such an evil person," Finn snorted. "We fired him."

"_What? I had a hard time trying to persuade him to pick you two among other couples!"_

"We totally have no problem if he wants to help other couples out," Finn responded nonchalantly. "Well, I'll probably feel sorry for them though."

"_Fine! Then I'll be looking for someone else."_

"We don't need anyone!" Finn retorted.

"_Yes you do. Being your perfect best man as I should be, I'm not gonna allow you guys to do painful robot-dance which you should know everyone at the wedding can't bear to witness."_

"Wh–" before Finn could resist, Kurt hung up on him. He let out a frustrated sigh loudly. "Fuck!"

"What did he say?" Rachel asked placing her hand on Finn's arm.

"He said that he's gonna look for a replacement," Finn mumbled petulantly. "And just hung up."

Rachel sighed. "You know, he's disappointed that he drew a blank to be a commander to orchestrate my bachelorette party when we did cast lots. That's why he gets enthusiastic about other things."

"He's not taking charge of your bachelorette party?" Finn frowned.

"Nope," Rachel shook her head.

"Then who's in charge?" Finn asked, not quite sure what was not washing with him.

"Tina and Santana," Rachel informed as she collected her and their stuff from the floor. "We should go. Rusty's waiting for us to take him out for a walk. I hope Kurt'll send us much nicer person this time," she hooked her arm around his. "Shall we?" she beamed up at him.

"Yeah," Finn shook his head pushing the thought that something was wrong out of it.

* * *

"The problem is," Santana began to talk closing eyes at masseur's spreading massage oil on her back. A couple of days later from their costume shopping, the girls were having a spa day for the wedding. "Puck loves to see his woman getting attention from other guys, but it's too much."

"Has he never been jealous?" Mercedes asked turning her head toward the blonde wife.

"He hates to sully his reputation as a badass," Santana spoke for Quinn. "Not that I define him as he likes to put it for himself."

"Why is he growing seaweed on his head anyway?" Brittany frowned. "Does he breathe using his gills?"

"Maybe," Rachel giggled.

"Pssst," Tina tried to get the brunette's attention while the other girls continued talking about Quinn and Puck. "Now spill," she whispered, lying down on a massage bed on her stomach.

"I don't have anything to spill out," Rachel responded nonchalantly closing her eyes at masseur's spreading massage oil on her back.

"Yes you do!" Tina whisper-shouted. "You said you would tell me later that day!"

"Is that so?" Rachel started to hum, ignoring Tina's persistency.

"Don't play innocent, Rachel!" Tina raised her voice, anxious to know what Hudson-Berry had done.

"Okay, fine!" Rachel opened her eyes turning her head toward the Asian. "I might have shaved Finn's public hair," she confessed in a low voice.

"Whoa, Yentl," Santana shot her head up across from Rachel's bed overhearing the conversation between Rachel and Tina. She had big ears when it came to the topics like that. "You did shave Finnocence's pubes? Did he ask you to?"

"Um," Rachel hesitated.

"You voluntarily did that for him, didn't you?" Santana smirked. "Good for you, Berry. I'm impressed," she approved. "I should add a chapter to my _Kama Sutra_ next edition."

"You shaved his down there?" Mercedes, next to Tina, lifted her head to see Rachel.

"Um, yeah," Rachel smiled sheepishly. "I trimmed up his pubes above and both sides of his business to be precise, and shaved the other areas."

"You mean," Quinn gasped, "his testicles and, uh, around the butt hole?"

"Yeah," Rachel chewed the inside of her cheeks feeling her face hot. "How about you guys? Have you shaved your partners' down there before?"

"Sam shaves his public hair by himself once or twice every other week," Mercedes responded. "But he's never asked me to."

"Mike does his own too," Tina nodded. "He once asked me to and I actually tried. But it was too hard for me to shave his balls. Besides, he seemed uncomfortable in a compromising position when I tried to shave, you know, his grundle. So I, uh, we gave up," she shrugged before closing the space between Rachel and her. "You should tell me how to do that later," she whispered with a wink.

"We wax each other's pubes once or twice every other month," Brittany spoke from the bed on the right side of Santana's one. "I make homemade removal wax."

"You do?" intrigued, Mercedes looked forward to see Santana's wife.

"Yeah," Brittany nodded. "It's not like rocket science. All you need is only sugar, honey and lemons. I'll give you the recipe if you want me to?"

"I do!" Mercedes announced excitedly. "It'd save my considerable money," she said shifting her gaze at Quinn lying on the bed on the left side of Santana. "How about you, Q?"

"He doesn't like shave down there," the blonde shook her head, "saying that it's impeditive for his studness or something like that," she mocked. "And I've never come up with the thought that I would help him for manscaping. I don't want to kneel down in front of his junk anyway."

"Q," Santana shook her head. "You've got a more serious problem than I thought."

"Maybe you guys had to skip a romance part?" Mercedes cautiously suggested. "I know he got you knocked up in college before you two got in a serious relationship, so–"

"I think he's shy and a big softy," Rachel chimed in. "The whole crude and vulgar thing is just an act so that he can seem to be a badass or whatever he thinks he can be."

"Yeah," Mercedes nodded affirmatively. "Or, he might be in 30 year of age crisis or something. You know, most of guys come to get the hit by the first wave of their middle-age crisis around 30. I know they do because I've read that kind of article."

"You should have a little more alone time with him. I don't mind babysitting your children if you like?" Tina offered.

"I don't know," Quinn hesitated.

"You better not get emotionally involved too much with the guy from the bar," Santana warned.

"What?" Quinn widened her eyes.

"My psychic Mexican third eye," Santana pointed to between her own eyes.

"I-it's not like that," Quinn protested. "We became friends and meet up sometimes, that's it. I merely enjoy a mature conversation with him."

"What are you expecting from our boys? Boys always will be boys. You should stop meeting that guy, Q. Or else, you'll be getting in more trouble with your own man," Mercedes chided. "And you," she turned to Santana, "are the one to entice her into this whole mess. You should stop stirring up trouble."

"Whoa, whoa," the Latina held up one of her hands in defense. "I did not force her to keep a tryst with the guy, Aretha."

"Guys, guys!" Rachel said loudly lifting her head to look over the girls. "We're here to relax, aren't we? Why don't we discuss some other thing? Like what you're gonna sing at my wedding? I've already made the list that I want you to sing," she tilted her head toward Santana. "I really loved your singing '_Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered_' at Tina's and Mike's wedding. How about '_How Long Has This Been Going On?_' from _Funny Face_ this time?" she tried to change the subject.

"Oh, no, no," Santana rolled her eyes. "I'm not gonna pick one from your list. I'll choose my song on my way."

"And what's that?" Rachel asked.

"That's for me to know and you to find out," Santana refused to reveal. "What about you guys?"

Rachel was relieved that everyone seemed to be distracted and drop the subject between Puck and Quinn. She wondered whether she should tell Finn the details of them or not while the other girls started chatting about the songs they were going to sing at the wedding.

* * *

**A/N: Puck is gonna end up exposing his bare down there in the next chapter!**

**Please review :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Quick update!**

**Thank you for reading my story and sending the responses!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee and its characters, ****and any resemblance to real persons or organizations is purely coincidental.**

* * *

**Chapter 4 – August 2017**

"Are you going in that dress?" Finn asked from the couch in the living room as he saw Rachel emerging out of the bedroom wearing her casual outfits. "Not that I don't like what you're wearing though."

"Oh, this?" Rachel looked down at her sleeveless navy blue mod shift mini dress with a pair of black flat shoes. "I'm gonna change at Santana's and Brit's," she said making her way into the bathroom.

"What're you wearing for the party then?" Finn casually asked.

"I'm not gonna tell you right now," she poked her head out of the bathroom door. "You'll see after coming home. Or I might be sending a picture as a sneak peek if I feel like it," she retracted her head to resume her make up. "So," she yelled, "what are you guys going to do tonight?

"Maybe at Sam's bar?" Finn responded fiddling with his cell phone. "When exactly will the party get started?" he shouted in the bathroom direction.

"Ten," Rachel yelled back. "Oh, Gosh, it's already that time!" she checked the time which indicated past 7:30 pm. She rushed out of the bathroom into the bedroom again to grab her purse. "I have to go," she announced as she got out of the bedroom again before approaching Finn on the couch to give him a kiss.

"Okay," Finn pulled her onto his lap gripping her waist tightly trying to prolong her time before leaving. "So, I'll pick you up at Santana's at 11 am tomorrow?"

"You don't have to," Rachel said wrapping her arms around his neck.

"But I want to," Finn nuzzled his face in her neck. "Besides, I'm pretty sure that you'll be getting wasted and suffering from hangover next morning," Finn pointed out. "Someone has to take care of you. So see you tomorrow at 11?" he said tilting his head up to see Rachel.

Rachel nodded. "See you then," she cradled his face in her both hands placing her lips on his again. "Love you," she kissed him once again, "and thank you."

"Love you, too," Finn squeezed her butt before she could climb out of his lap completely. "Have fun."

As soon as Rachel closed the front door shut, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed Puck's number. "Dude, are you sure that we'll go there at 1 am? Rachel said that the party gets started at 10."

"_Relax, Huds. The party consists of three parts. We're gonna be there for the final part. That's the plan. Don't worry. I already arranged that the workers of aspiring actors got another job so that all we can do is to go there before 1 am."_

"Alright, then see you at Sam's at 10."

* * *

Rachel hesitantly emerged out of the bathroom in Santana-Brittany household after changing into a white bridal babydoll lingerie, inside of it wearing white lacy bra and also lacy cheeky panty with a garter belt and thigh high white stockings. She stood in the middle of the living room shifting uncomfortably. She glanced over at the other girls who all had been waiting for her.

Rachel had to stand out in the sea and be sort of a princess since she was the bride (being a princess part was that actually Rachel had demanded). That was, she was wearing white costume among the others in black or red BDSM costume and a silver crown with lots of Zirconia beads was placed on top of her head.

Mercedes was wearing black one inspired by _Frank-N-Furter _from _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_. Kitty a black latex catsuit. Brittany's costume was similar to what Byoncé had worn at Super Bowl halftime show in 2013. Santana a faux leather tight fit bustier mini dress exposed the both sides of the body, peeked out a garter belt from the hem of the dress. Tina a goth-inspired long dress with a slave collar with a long metal chain. Quinn a BDSM-ish middle length red lingerie dress with fish net stockings.

And Kurt.

"Where's Kurt?" Rachel asked.

As if on cue, soft knocks came from the front door. Santana immediately got the door, only to find Kurt, who had decided to shop his own costume alone, standing there wearing riding clothes.

"What the fuck, Hummel?" Santana screeched. "Didn't you listen to me at all? Hello? The theme is BDSM!"

"I'm gay, but not living on the Christopher Street. Thank you very much. Besides, look," Kurt held up his riding crop. "I'm not completely disregarding the theme. Imagination is an important factor when it comes to sex."

"Fine, whatever," Santana rolled her eyes before turning around. "Alright, guys. Grab your coats. We gotta go."

* * *

The bachelorette party was divided into three parts. The first one was Rachel's and her friends' performance because most of them were actually performers. They performed several songs from _Chicago_ and _Cabaret_. Rachel even showed off her pole-dancing skill, which she had been trained by Brittany for a couple of days before the party, and earned a big round of applause from the audience.

Satisfied, Rachel plopped down on a chair in the last row from the stage.

"Now we gotta toast!" Santana called out from behind, a few bottles of Casa de Luna in her hands, Brittany who was having shot glasses, limes, and salt on the tray in tow.

By the time the second part of the show started, Rachel got intoxicated enough to not get so shocked or wince at the performances of the people on stage between same sexes, let alone man and woman (yet without actual sexual intercourse). She even giggled while Kurt was filming the stage repeatedly saying '_Oh my Babra_' (not that she noticed it). Yep, she got totally drunk.

"Berry, there's a souvenir stand over there," Santana whispered in her ear pointed to the stand with her forefinger. "Why don't you get some for the wedding night?"

"Oh, really? Can I have handcuffs with fluffy pink fur? If I purchase them, I want them to be pink! They have to be pink!" Rachel slurred. "You know, Finn's gotten me tied up and blindfolded once or twice with his ties to explore my whole body before, and he loooved it. So he would looove to handcuff me too."

"Interesting," Santana shared a look with the other girls before smirking. "What exactly did he do while you were blindfolded, Rachel?"

"Hmm?" Rachel tilted her head to see the Latina pouring another shot from the tequila bottle.

"What did Finn do while you were blindfolded?" Tina repeated trying her best to suppress her giggling.

"He counted my moles," Rachel giggled oblivious to her remark recorded by the video camera Kurt was holding. "All over my body. I have 17 moles, the one very very very close to my vagina included! Yay!" Rachel's arms flew up in the air. "Finn's favorite is the one in my left armpit. See?" she pointed the aforementioned spot with the forefinger of her right hand. "This one," she grinned looking over the girls continuing to blab. "And Finn looooves to suck it when he's in a very romantic mood."

"The one very very very close to your vagina too?" Santana encouraged.

"Hmm-hmm," Rachel nodded, chewing a piece of lime, her eyes already half-closed. Then she took a swig another shot of tequila before licking salt from her hand. "Because nobody could ever count my moles like Finn. It's Finn's thing. Our things, actually. Because I counted Finn's too when I shaved his pubes. And you know what? Finn has 34 moles, twice as many as mine."

"Where is your favorite?" Tina asked, now giggling furiously.

Rachel joined Tina's giggling before placing the side of her head to the table. "My favorite?" she said lifting her head to see the girls. "I found the one under his penis and it became his and my favorite," she purred in a drunken state. "He loooves me to lick it."

Santana poured another shot for Rachel. "Drink it, Berry," she patted her on the back before placing the shot glass in front of her. "You should know that you can be really fun when you're trashed."

"I am funny even when I'm sober," Rachel pouted drinking another shot of tequila Santana had offered nonetheless. "What's next?" she looked forward at the stage with one eye, her crown askew.

"_The Full Monty_," Mercedes responded.

"Are the strippers wearing the same theme costume? Or following the movie?" Kitty asked eager to witness the guys taking off their clothes as she sat on the chair next to Mercedes.

"The same theme," Santana answered.

"What time exactly it'll get started?" Tina checked the time on her wrist.

"In twenty minutes," Quinn informed.

"I'm going to the ladies room before it's started then," Rachel stumbled a little as she got out of the chair.

"I'll come with you, Rachel," Tina said supporting Rachel by the arm.

"And I'll get handcuffs with pink fur!" Rachel announced clapping her hands before walking out of the floor.

* * *

"You guys are late," a 50 something aged guy who seemed a director of the show or something yelled irritably checking the time on the wall as Finn and his friends entered a greenroom from the back door. "Change your clothes in there. Your costume's is in there too," he gestured to the five curtained-off cubicles.

When they were about to make their way over to the cubicles, the old guys stopped them. "Give her the bags," he jerked his chin toward the bag which Finn and the boys were shouldering. "Becky keeps them on your behalf."

"But–"

Before Puck could resist, a tiny girl snatched their bags willy-nilly.

"So many guys who got this job have attempted to steal our costume. That should be never happened. Now go change," the director guy demanded.

Finn and the boys exchanged confused looks before Puck let out a sigh. "Fine," he reluctantly complied.

Once they got in the respective cubicles, they cried out in a chorus.

"_What the fuck!?"_

"_Oh, hell no!"_

However, as much as they wanted to run away from this humiliating situation, they couldn't and had to change into the costume which had been prepared for each of them. The old guy and the assistant named Becky were drawing themselves up to their full heights folding their arms across their chest in front of the cubicles along with the demanding words '_Hurry up!_' repeatedly.

After several minutes that they had respectively mumbled resentful words toward the Mohawk, each of them nervously opened the curtains.

Artie, who was wearing a pair of tight fitted latex pants and buckled vest, burst into laughter as he saw Puck. The Mohawk was forced to wear a black faux leather cock pouch, studded harness crossing his bare chest, a custodian helmet on her head. "You should be at least happy about having shaved at a men's salon, you fucking asshole," he mocked.

Sam poked his head through the curtain to see Puck before joining Artie laughing. "Of course you have to have it on," he gestured to the police hat.

Puck glared at Artie then at Sam who was wearing gold tight shorts and vest.

Mike, wearing a vinyl body suit with collar, shook his head with a sigh as he stepped out of his cubicle. "How did this happen?" he gave a look at the Mohawk. "You owe us, _a lot_!"

"Is this party really Rachel's?" Finn asked the director guy as he dreadly emerged out of his cubicle.

"You mean Rachel Berry? Yes it is," the guy confirmed.

Artie did a double take looking at Finn's costume which was a firefighter's jacket over yellow brief boxers with a pair of latex boots and helmet. "Wait," he turned to see the director. "Why is he wearing those? And so is he," he pointed to Sam. "They seem out of place comparing to our costume."

"I told you many guys had tried to steal the costume. A couple of guys actually succeeded. It's kinda makeshift," the director reasoned. "Now go onto the stage. There're another three dancers waiting for you guys to join at the backstage."

"Huh? Stage?" dumbfounded, Finn screeched. "What do you mean by that?"

"Are you saying that you ditched rehearsals?" the director arched his eyebrow. "I won't pay for people who neglect their responsibilities."

"No, we didn't," Puck lied before Finn or the other boys could open their mouth. "But there's some misunderstanding between the agent and us. I'll talk to him," he jerked up his chin toward Finn ignoring a sharp glare from him, "before going on the stage."

"Good. Then go," the old dude demanded. "It'll get started in 5 minutes," with that, the director guys and Becky violently pushed their backs in the direction he had just mentioned.

The boys, especially Finn, Artie and Mike, tried their best to protest to no avail.

"What're we supposed to do in this?" Finn looked down at his own costume once he unwillingly stood in line at the backstage.

"Dance and strip, of course," a young guy in line turned around to answer with a funny face. "What do you think?"

"S-strip?" dumbfounded, Finn choked. He didn't want to strip let alone dance in front of a bunch of women, Rachel's friends included. Besides, he was not good at dancing, and he didn't know the choreography either.

"Oh, no. Fuck no!" Artie frantically shook his head. "I'm not gonna strip, ever! The costume is enough humiliating!"

"Jesus!" Finn held up his hands in the air before pointedly looking at the Mohawk. "Puck! Look what you've done to us!" Finn whisper-shouted accusing. "You're _so_ dead!"

"I did nothing!" Puck shot back. "It's Hummel's fault! We got set up!"

"No, it's all your fucking fault, Puckerman," Sam retorted. Not that he minded dancing and stripping in front of a bunch of girls. He had gotten a job like this in high school to feed his little brother and sister when his father had lost his job.

"Shhh!" another young guy in line admonished at the freaking boys. "In 2 minutes!"

"We didn't even know the choreography," Mike sighed realizing that there was no way in hell for them to get out of this mess.

"It's kinda same as the movie," the other guy in line said nonchalantly. "When did you get this job? I didn't see you guys in rehearsals," he frowned exchanging a look with the other two guys beside him. "Alright. Have you ever seen the movie? The Full Monty? We're gonna strip along with the songs '_Hot Stuff_' and '_You Can Leave Your Hat On_.'"

Puck shook his head. "Alright, we can do this," he decided preparing himself for the worst.

"But–"

"I'm gonna be in the front row with these three," cutting Finn off, Puck gestured to the three strangers. "So all you have to do is sway in the background. No strip."

"One minute," some assistant director called out to the guys in line. Then the music started.

_Oh, God._ Finn buried his face in his both hands. He was sure that Rachel would kill him (or Puck more precisely) after they finished this.

* * *

All the lightings in the room got turned off at once before the spotlights directed one by one onto the empty stage along with the prelude to '_Hot Stuff_.' Then the strippers marched onto the stage from the left. Kurt approached the stage, his video camera still in his hand.

"Oh, my Prada!" Kurt dropped his jaw open when he spotted a familiar figure with a mohawk among the four guys who had stepped onto the stage first. Then he gasped. "What the hell is going on?" he said scandalized as he saw his brother, Mike, Artie and Sam followed the first four guys to stand in the back row.

"Oh my God!" Tina practically jumped on her chair as she saw their significant others on the stage while Santana and Brittany laughed their asses out of their chairs.

"Hummel," Santana called out to Kurt. "Don't drop your camera. Record it all for the rehearsal dinner!" she suggested earning a thumb up from him.

Mercedes and Kitty shared horrified looks before they glanced at Quinn, whose hubby was wearing the most humiliating costume. "Did you know _that_?" Mercedes cautiously asked.

"No," was the only word Quinn could deliver from her mouth as she rolled her eyes.

As for Rachel, since she got completely dead drunk, she uncontrollably giggled seeing the Mohawk's costume. And she blinked a couple of times as she shifted her gaze from the front row to the back row. "Oh, look!" she stood up from her chair pointing to the guy in a firefighter's jacket with her forefinger. "He looks like my Finny!" she stumbled a little before sauntering to the side of the stage, her shot glass in one hand.

When Rachel got to the edge of the stage, she leaned forward to it tilting her head. "You look like my Finny!" she called out to the guy who was clumsily and awkwardly dancing. "What's your name?" she asked loudly before taking a sip of her eleventh shot of tequila. "I decided! I'm going to marry you too! Oops," she spilled her tequila left in the glass. She looked down at herself and giggled at her own clumsiness cupping her mouth to suppress it.

"Rachel!" Finn whisper-shouted while continuing his awkward dance waving a hand to try to get her to stay away from the stage.

Rachel shot up her head to stare at the firefighter. "How did you know my name? Do I know you? I don't remember where I met you," she pressed the forefinger of her empty hand to her lips thinking. "Well, I don't care," she giggled again before putting her glass on the edge of the stage and stretching her arms out to the guy who looked like Finn. "Pull me up, pull me up!"

Finn sighed as he stopped dancing before getting down out of the stage to drag Rachel into the corner of the room. Rachel wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging tightly to his body as soon as he got closer to her.

"Rachel? Rachel?"

"Hmm?" she buried her face into his chest deeply inhaling his sent. "You smell like my Finny too. You smell really good," she said against his chest closing her eyes.

"Rachel?" Finn called again as he perched himself on the nearest chair letting Rachel on his lap. "How many shots have you had?" he asked adjusting her askew crown correctly while trying his best to not think as to how hot she looked in white lingerie.

Rachel started counting with her fingers how many shots she had taken, the audience suddenly roared all at once.

Finn and Rachel shot up their head looking over the venue then at the front row. Finn widened his eyes. Meanwhile, Rachel burst out laughing as she saw the guy who looked alike Puck had just been stripped the cock pouch by the guy next to him. The other boys almost came to a halt of their dancing with shocked expressions when Puck's groin was exposed.

"Oh. My. Babra!" Kurt screamed almost falling backward as he saw Puck's groin. To be more precise, his completely shaved groin. "My eyes, my eyes!" he covered his eyes with one hand, yet never failing to point his camera in Puck's direction.

As for the other girl, Santana, Brittany and Kitty seemed thrilled witnessing Puck's bare dick while Tina and Mercedes were sporting horrified looks on their faces before burying their faces in their hands. And Quinn, seeming somehow pissed off at her husband, folded her arms in front of her chest glaring at Puck.

Finn also covered not his but Rachel's eyes with his hand to make her avoid seeing his best friend's bare dick. However, drunk Rachel violently shrugged his hand off of her eyes.

"Look!" Rachel pointed to the Mohawk. "He has s shaved penis!" she said turning to see the firefighter Finn. "I'm telling you the secret," she leaned closer to him. "I've shaved my fiance's down there. Not that I completely shaved him. I did his testicles and grundle!" she announced with a mischievous grin. "And you know what? I found a mole under his penis–"

"Rachel!" Finn tried in vain to stop her from speaking.

"–and he loved me to lick the mole," Rachel giggled. "And I loved it too. But this is between you and me, okay?" her words were slowly getting incoherent as she closed her eyes. Then she finally fell asleep in his chest.

Finn sighed rubbing her thigh with his hand dropping his head to his chest. Then he lifted up his head to look over the whole room.

Now the music was change to '_You Can Leave Your Hat On_.' Puck was still dancing naked along with the three other naked men. Mike, Artie and Sam awkwardly continued their task at hand.

Another four minutes. Another four minutes. Then he could get out of here and take Rachel home.

Finn closed his eyes repeating to himself.

* * *

**Please review :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thank you for reading my story and sending the responses!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee and its characters, ****and any resemblance to real persons or organizations is purely coincidental.**

* * *

**Chapter 5 – August 2017**

Rachel loudly growled, which only made her headache throb more, as she woke up the next morning. She buried her face in the pillow to avoid the morning sunlight that was streaming in through the curtains attacking her still closed eyes directly.

"Rachel?" Finn said softly peeking into the bedroom.

Her eyes fluttered open as she heard his fiancé's voice.

What? It was already 11 am? How long had she been sleeping since the party had ended? Or rather, when had the party ended? How had she come back to Santana's and Brittany's loft in Bushwick?

She slowly lifted her head to examine her surroundings. Her eyes caught the familiar photo frame on the nightstand, in which the picture of Finn tackling her from behind in Central Park accidentally captured by Kurt was placed. So, which meant that Finn already had gotten her home, didn't it?

Rachel rolled herself over on the bed to find Finn standing in the doorway, having a bottle of water and Advil in his hands. She tried to sit up on the bed as Finn walked over to the bedside.

"Got you," Finn put the water and the pain killer away on the nightstand before helping her to sit upright.

"Thank you," Rachel managed to speak before leaning against the bed head. "My head hurts," she whined, her hand flying up to her temple.

"I know," Finn grabbed the bottle of water and handed it out with two orange tablets to her. "Here," he offered.

Having swallowed the tablets with the water, Rachel glanced at the time on the nightstand which indicated a few minutes past 9 am. She turned her head to look at Finn quizzically. "What time did you pick me up at Santana's? How did I get here?"

"You didn't remember anything?" Finn said cautiously sitting on the bed beside her.

_As soon as the strip show finished and the strippers except Finn disappeared into the backstage, Tina and Mercedes hurriedly exited the floor to search for their respective significant others, or better to interrogate the reason why they had been on stage instead of the real strippers._

_As for Finn, who had taken care of Rachel who seemed to slumber in his chest on the corner of the floor, he beckoned his stepbrother to come over to have a talk._

"_What're you doing here?" Kurt asked as he approached them. "Or rather, what the hell was __**that**__?" he turned his head in the stage's direction before his gaze returned to his brother. "When did you guys become strippers?"_

"_It's a long story," Finn sighed. "Are you going back to Santana's, now are you?" he saw Kurt nodding. "Can I take her home now? Because she–" he gestured to the sleeping brunette. "Or do you guys plan something else after this?"_

"_We're going back to Santana's merely to sleep actually. So I don't think they mind your taking her home," Kurt said eyeing Rachel who looked like totally wasted. "I'll fetch her coat," he declared walking away from the couple before coming to a halt to look back at his brother. "You better change your costume, or else, you might be arrested on obscenity charges," he scoffed._

"_Shut up," Finn took a shipper from an empty glass left on the table and threw it in Kurt's direction. "If anyone's arrested, it has to be Puck," he yelled at the retreating figure of his stepbrother_

_Once Kurt handed Rachel's pale pink summer coat to him, Finn enveloped her with the coat and carried her like a princess into the backroom. When he entered the backroom, he passed by Mike and Sam who were about to returned to the party floor with their wives, and saw Puck and Artie leaving the venue from the backdoor. The party was officially over._

"_Where you goin'? You kidnappin' me?" suddenly, awaken (but still dead drunk) Rachel spoke in his arms looking up at him with a frown. "I wanna go hooooome," she whined rubbing her temple with the end of her palm, which caused her to realize her silver crown wasn't on top of her head anymore. "Nooooo!" she cried out as she ran a hand through her hair. "My crown! Where's my crown?"_

"_Here," Finn gently deposited her on the nearest empty chair before placing the crown on her head. "And that's what I'm doing, babe. I'm taking you home now," he assured._

"_Why did you call me babe? Where's my Finny?" Rachel stared at the firefighter Finn incredulously before roving around the room._

_Finn crouched down to get to the same eye level. "I __**am**__ your Finn, Rach."_

"_You really look like my Finny," Rachel grabbed him by the face with her both hands looking into his eyes with half-opened eyes. "But Finn is a music teacher, not a firefighter," she pursed her lips._

"_Baby, it's me," Finn placed his hands over hers looking back at her with a serious face._

"_Do you have moles? Do you have a mole under you penis?" Rachel looked down at the lower part of Finn's body. "Show me that one, so that I can find out who you really are!" she got to her feet in an attempt to pull down the firefighter Finn's yellow boxer-briefs._

"_Rachel!" Finn looked at her in horror trying to stop her hand since the employer of the strippers and his assistant Becky were in the same room. "She's my fiancée," he pointed to Rachel smiling sheepishly at the old dude who gave a look at him._

_Rachel chose the moment to pull his boxer-briefs down with one swift motion before holding his penis upward._

"_Rachel!" horrified, Finn hissed trying his best to shake her hand off as nicely as possible and to cup his junk with his both hands, earning the director guy's comment 'we're not allowed to screw our guests!'_

_When Finn turned his head toward the director yelling back 'I said she's my fiancée,' pouting Rachel attempted to pull his hands away from his penis and lift it upward once again. "Oh! You have the mole just like my Fin–"_

"_Rachel!"_

"_Get a room, bitches!"_

"_Oouuuuuwwww."_

_In a span of a few seconds that Finn and Rachel pushed and pulled their hands over Finn's Jr., something, a bag, more precisely, Finn's backpack which was stuffed some costume Finn had been supposed to wear for the party, flew toward the side of Rachel's head like a ton of bricks which hit her head hard and caused Rachel to fall down sideways._

"_Oh, fuck! Rachel!" Finn immediately held now unconscious Rachel up to his chest in his arms, oblivious to his exposed groin, the yellow boxer-briefs pooled around his ankles. Finn turned around his head in the direction that his backpack came from, only to find Becky plastering a grin in satisfactory with her own killer arms._

"_What the hell?" Finn shot up his head to glare at the blonde girl with thick glasses._

"_Put your gun away, T-Rex! It's disgusting!" undaunted, Becky shot back folding her arms across her chest._

"_You should've put out on the stage, not here. No strip no paycheck. Now get the fuck out of here," the director demanded._

"Then I took you home from there," Finn reminded her.

"Oh Gosh," Rachel buried her face in her hands with embarrassment. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm such a hot mess when I'm drunk."

"Baby, it's okay," Finn chuckled pressing his lips gently to her temple. "Sure you were a mess, but still hot in this costume," he looked down at her who was still in white lingerie. Then he took the silver crown from the nightstand. "Here, it's your crown, Princess," he said placing it on top of Rachel's head.

"Oh, God, Finn!" Rachel groaned lightly slapping his chest with the back of her hand. "Don't call me that! It feels like you became my third father!"

"I apologize, your Highness," Finn amended playfully.

Rachel giggled. "Thank you, Finn, for taking care of me," she snuggled into him. "Wait," she lifted her head looking up at her fiancé. "Why were you there in the firefighter's costume to begin with? How did it happen?"

"Um," Finn shifted on the bed nervously before letting out a sigh. Then he started enlightening the whole story.

* * *

"You haven't lost your weight an atom, Finn! Or worse, you gained five pounds!" Kurt harshly announced as Finn stepped away from the scale. "How did this happen? I guess I have to take it up a notch from now on."

"C'mon, Kurt," Finn groaned. "Haven't I yielded to you or missed your Boot Camp, have I? What more do you want?"

He hadn't been able to bring himself to eat the usual amount of food for first five tries or so since Kurt had forced him to do Kurt Hummel Grooming Boot Camp. Yet, the more he got used to the hard training, the better appetite he had. Or worse, the boot camp and dance lessons merely sharpen his appetite, which resulted in increasing the quantity of food he ran down his stomach more than ever before. He even blamed it on Rachel as well because her home cooking was too good to resist—as long as it was not tofu.

"_Yielded_?" Kurt hissed, offended by his brother's choice of words. "This is all for–"

"'Cause, Hummel," Puck cut Kurt off, "Hudson's gobbled up lots of greasy pizza out of your or Berry's eyeshot," he chuckled as he walked over to his locker.

"Finn!" Kurt gasped scandalized. "What the hell? You got all my efforts gone up in smoke?"

"Shut the fuck up, Puckerman!" Finn snapped. "Unlike you, I need extra fuel to get some action, _on a daily basis_!" he exaggerated.

Since Puck had ended up exposing his shaved bulge, the Mohawk had been forced to confide his sex life, or lack of thereof. Much to Finn's surprise, his best friend had said that he didn't even remember when the last time he had had sex with his wife was, and he had been sick and tired of using his own right hand with internet porno.

Going to a men's salon was not Puck's idea though. It was his buddy Spencer's, saying that grooming his body might help to seduce Quinn. So Puck had pathetically been once or twice to a men's salon which happened to have only female beauty technicians (Spence knew a lot about that department, although the salon himself would frequent had only male ones since he swung that way).

Yet, to Puck's credit, the salon was not like a red light behind the scene (it was illegal and he was a police officer after all). And the beauty technicians merely and _accidentally_ grazed his penis when they waxed him. Puck swore that going to a men's salon was not because he had wanted to be touched by some other women. It had been supposed to surprise his wife to change her mind for fuck's sake (literally). That was it.

"You should've been to Nevada," Sam chuckled as he put his shirt on over his head.

"Fuck you, Trouty Mouth," Puck roughly shoved Sam by his shoulder. "I know that you weren't allowed to screw 'Cedes until engaged."

"What?" Artie stop his hands from pulling up his jeans and shot up his head. "You, according to Finn, who had banged Quinn on a first date in high school, put up with banging your own woman for almost two years?"

"That was just a hook-up after a breakup, man! From both sides! That was consensual!" Sam excused shutting the locker close violently.

"Like you didn't give her the promise ring which had supposedly belonged to your ex when you asked her out on a second date," Puck snorted stuffing his training kit into his bag. "You really are good in the sack," he said sarcastically. "That's why Q took to her heels."

"Says the guy has been forced to put up with screwing," Sam shot back, "for over six months!"

"How can you guys so vulgar? You're such stunted!" Kurt screeched before shaking his head. "And you," he turned around to look at the Mohawk pointedly, "should more considerate to your woman. I'm pretty sure that's why Quinn lost the desire to fornicate with you."

"Fuck you, Hummel," Puck glared at Kurt. "You're to blame that my junk was exposed, let alone I was forced to wear the fucking cock pouch!"

"Are you kidding me?" Kurt looked at Puck in disbelief. "It's not my fault that you sabotaged Rachel's party or misconstrued what I said either. Besides, don't try to change the subject!"

"Yeah, Kurt's right, Puck," Mike gave the Mohawk a look. "Are you really a police officer? 'Cause you're obviously lack of proficiency in legwork."

"And in sexability too," Sam pressed.

"Seriously, man, are you sure that she isn't cheating on you with some other dude?" Artie genuinely asked as he shouldered his training bag. "You know, she's really attractive. Did you see tons of dudes tried to hit on her at Sam's bar the other day?"

"Guys, guys," chimed in Finn, who sensed that it was going to cross the line into treacherous territory if he let them on the loose on this subject since Rachel had confided that Quinn had gotten a new friend, a male friend to be more precise, which his mohawked best friend didn't know yet. "Who's hungry? I am hungry. There's a really great place in Italian Harlem."

"Finn! How many times do I have to tell you the pr–"

"Sounds good. I'm hugry too," Puck cut Kurt off as he already got the door to the hallway. "Get your asses out of here," he said to the other guys over his shoulder then exited the locker room before the others could react.

Artie, Sam and Mike exchanged confused looks before shrugging and emerging out of the room too.

Finn shut his locker close with relief. Well, he had started it in a way though, to distract Kurt from annoying him more (he didn't mean to dig up the issues Puck and Quinn were having). Yet, if his friends kept speculating that something was going on with the Mohawk's wife, the things between the married couple might get worse.

He never imagined that his best friend, who proclaimed Sex Shark, had had to put up with having sex. Sure, Puck and Quinn had been on the brink of divorce several times and had lots of big fights. However, they always went thought and worked things between them out. And they had never stopped having sex even when they had a fight as far as he was concerned (if Puck told him the truth). That was to say, the married couple had a serious problem.

He had to get more information about Quinn's new friend from Rachel before he made Puck want to talk to him. He decided.

* * *

"_I don't think I can make it tonight. We haven't convinced Rupert on the private dinner scene yet. The rehearsal won't be ending at least in two hours. I'm sorry, Finn, I really am."_

"It's alright, Rach," Finn sighed with disappointment. "There's nothing you can do, right? I'll be fine going there alone, or maybe Kurt can keep me–"

"_Oh, Rupert's calling me. Sorry, I gotta go. I'll call you when it's finished, okay? Love you."_

"Love you t–"

Before he could finish, Rachel hung up on him. Finn sighed again running a hand through his hair. Pulling himself together, he decided to make a phone call to Kurt. However, his stepbrother wasn't available to tag along with him because he totally forgot Kurt wasn't even in the City in a few days. So he tried to bribe someone, anyone of his friends into keeping his company to take dance lessons, but to no avail.

_Great._ He had to go to the dance studio _alone_.

He took a deep breath before pushing the wooden door to the dance studio on Broadway Street in Midtown to find a blonde woman with as a short skirt as he thought only Rachel would wear standing with her back toward the entrance.

"Um," Finn cleared his throat to get her attention.

The blonde woman, who seemed about ten years older than him, whirled around. "Oh, hello. You must be Finn."

"Uh, yeah," Finn rubbed the back of his head nervously before approaching her and offering his hand for her to shake. "Finn, I mean, Finn Hudson. Nice to meet you, uh–"

"Holly, Holly Holiday," she took his hand.

"My fiancée, Rachel, couldn't make it because the rehearsal is running long," Finn started to explain. "I mean, uh, she's working on Broadway–"

"Oh, I know who she is," Holly announced. "You know Will Schuster?"

"I know of him," Finn remembered. "Rachel's worked with him before."

"I'm dating him now and I've heard a lot about Miss Berry from him," Holly informed before adding. "And from Mr. Hummel, too."

"Oh," Finn just nodded not knowing how to react. When did Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury break up? The last time he checked, they had been about to get marry.

Holly let out a small laugh as she saw Finn plastering a confused look on his face. "Rachel didn't tell you? Or maybe she doesn't know yet. Emma got freaked out at the very last minute when she supposedly went up the aisle and ran away from the church leaving Will at the altar."

"Wow, it, uh–" Finn got at a loss for words rubbing the back of his neck shifting at the spot uncomfortably. That sucked. He couldn't imagine how Mr. Schue had felt.

"Yeah, I know," Holly spoke on his behalf. "That's disastrous." She turned around to make her way over to the piano. "Anyway, Will is getting here later to help you, me actually. Until then, why don't we have a quick warm-up?" With that, she pressed the play button on the audio player on top of the piano.

The second that music '_Do You Wanna Touch Me (Oh Yeah)_' started, Holly began to dance around Finn doing hair flips repeatedly and seductively.

Oh God, this was going to be as equally a nightmare as the time Dakota Stanley had imposed his opinions on them. Nonetheless, Finn continued his so-called tiny dance with jitter steps right and left, back and forth on the spot, hoping that Mr. Schue would arrive as soon as possible.

Five or so minutes later, having the music finally ended, which he felt so long like he had been in a footage in slow motion, Holly placed her hands on his shoulders. "I don't think you had enough," she decided before running down a hand along his chest.

When Finn flinched at her no-so-subtle seductive move, Holly let out a soft laugh. "Your dance is cute. You're cute," she said, then suddenly held his head with her both hands and crushing her mouth onto his.

Finn froze for a second, his mind going blank. It took him a couple of seconds to grasp what was happening. Then he placed his hands on hers in an attempt to shake her hand off of his head, which caused him to fall on his backside.

Oh, no. This was Penny Owen at Victoria's Secret 2.0.

No, _beyond_ Penelope 2.0!

Why did this always happen to him?

As he finally managed to stop Holly from assaulting his lips, and was about to push her body on top of him away from his, an angry male voice came from the entrance.

"_What the fuck is going on here!?_"

Finn and Holly shot up their heads to turn to see in the voice's direction, only to find William Schuester standing in the doorway.

"Will, this–"

"Save it," Will cut Holly off before shifting his gaze toward Finn. "I thought you were getting married with Rachel. How could you do that to her?" he mistakenly accused.

"I'm not cheating on Rachel!" Finn desperately shouted. "She," he pointed to Holly who brushed dust off of her attire calmly and fixed her hair, "attacked me!"

However, Will just shook her head in disappointment. "I'm out of here," with that, he walked out of the dance studio.

"Well, he doesn't seem to feel helping me anymore," Holly just shrugged before walking over toward the piano to take a look at a sheet of paper which was written the set list, the first dance song included, that Kurt had sent beforehand.

"What the hell?" Finn cried out in disbelief. "Why did you do that? Isn't he your boyfriend? And in case you forgot, I'm getting married with Rachel! Who knows Mr. Schue, might I add!"

"Oh, c'mon. It was just a kiss," Holly responded nonchalantly. "Besides, we're in sort of an open relationship since he hasn't gotten over the germaphobe. So he has no right to be mad at me for just one kiss."

"Are you fucking serious?" Finn stared at Holly for a moment thunderstruck, his jaw dropped open. He shook his head as he got to his feet. "I'm outta here too," he announced making his way over to the doorway before adding over his shoulder.

"And you're fired."

Dreaded, Finn left the building still holding his bottled up emotions.

Puck and Quinn, now Mr. Schue and Miss Holiday. Not that he cared about whatever problems Holly had been having. But Will Schuester was on the guest list for the wedding.

He sighed slogging toward the nearest subway station.

He had to dispel the false idea that Mr. Schue had gotten for Rachel's sake. He hoped that Rachel would not be overreacting to the kiss from Mr. Schue's girlfriend (probably ex at this moment).

* * *

**A/N: In case the readers who haven't read '**_**Who's the Next Door**_**,' Penny Owen's character in this story is a school nurse at the elementary school where Finn works and stalks Finn (she sneaks up to Finn from behind to cling to him at one of the Victoria's Secret stores).**

**Please review :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thank you for reading my story and sending the responses!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee and its characters, ****and any resemblance to real persons or organizations is purely coincidental.**

* * *

**Chapter 6 – August 2017**

As predicted, Rachel had gotten upset about Holly assaulting his lips. Despite it had been almost midnight, she had insisted on calling Kurt who had been to London for work ('_Still seven in the evening at his time, Finn!_') to talk about her soon-to-be brother-in-law's choices of dance instructors. Also, after good minutes of explanation to Mr. Schuester as to what had happened in the dance studio, she had put Finn on the phone to disabuse her former co-star of his misunderstanding on his own way.

That was not all.

Although she understood that he was definitely not the one to be blamed for the kiss, mouthwash before kissing Rachel for a week from then on became mandatory. He should be glad though, because the term of her rule would have been doubled by his protestation against it ('_Because, Finn, I always brush my teeth __**twice**__ every time the rehearsals where I need to kiss my co-star are over!_' '_Don't you think you're being a little dramatic, I mean, even for you?_' '_What did you just say?_' '_Oh shit._').

He knew that she had needed to find a way to take out her pent up anger because she couldn't get hold of Holly (she wasn't acquainted with the blonde woman and didn't know either her phone number or address). So he followed her rule obediently keeping his mouth shut before he could say something he really didn't mean to.

In addition to those, as if someone above the sky had planned, she had declared that she would get God damn period in a couple of days, which meant that he would not allowed to touch her marshmallows ('_My boobs get sore before the time of the month, Finn!_'), let alone her gummy bear for a week or so. Fuck! What rotten luck!

Finn glanced at Puck out of the corner of his eyes, wondering how his mohawked friend could endure his no sex life for so long.

"Hey," Finn nudged Puck's arm with his elbow, leaning closer to him. "How do you think that happened?"

"Huh?" Puck flinched, pulling himself away from his face. He eyed Finn with a frown for a moment, then his gaze returned to the field where Matt Harvey was picking up the rosin bag from the mound to prepare to pitch at the bottom of the second inning. "How do I think of what?"

"Quinn," Finn said in a low voice, trying to lean closer to the Mohawk again. "How exactly did that start? Do you have something to come to your mind?"

"Dude," Puck started, not bothering to turn his face in Finn's direction this time. "We've got more important things to talk about here. Besides," he brought his head closer to him, his eye still fixed on the ballgame before whispering. "I wouldn't have used my fist this much if I knew it." A hint of frustration was taken in his voice. "Why did you ask? Berry got fed up with your shitty technique in the sack already?"

"Thanks for your concern, but no. Except for the time she's on the rag, we're good," Finn said, keeping his head closer to his friend as much as possible since his stepfather and one of his employees were sitting right behind them.

"You'll be laughing on the other side of your face," Puck snorted. "Once Berry gets to lull her toddler to sleep, she won't return to your bedroom until the sun rises."

By the time the bottom of the sixth inning, Finn learned that there were some married women who lost interest in having sex, especially after a child birth. The Mohawk's theory had no evidence though. Puck had merely gotten a smattering of his colleagues' gripes about their lack of sexual activities with their wives. Plus, Finn's detective of a friend couldn't nail the answer how and why exactly their women had stopped wanting sex.

Finn got some funny feelings in his stomach when he was about to pry into what exactly had led the married couple to the current situation. He pulled his head away from the Mohawk to look around the ballpark, only to find tons of expectant eyes of the spectators, somehow, focus on him and his friend next to him.

"What the hell is go–"

"Guys, do it already!" interrupting Puck, one of the spectators sitting in the front row from them gave them a meaningful look before jerking his chin up toward the big screen of scoreboard.

Finn and Puck slowly followed his gaze and gasped in unison as they found themselves captured by the frame written the pink letters 'KISS ME' at the bottom of the big screen.

"What the fuck?"

"Oh, hell no!"

They hissed simultaneously then looked at each other in disgust.

However, most of the crowd that already got drunk (Mets were getting creamed by Giants) only wolf-whistled and cheered them in encouragement. To make things worse, Burt, who from behind had been making a funny face to observe them keeping their talk in whisper, shoved their heads against one another forcibly at the exact moment Finn and Puck looked at each other. Which made their lips pressed together.

The audience, of course, roared in amusement.

Finn and Puck desperately shook Burt's hands off and quickly tore their heads away from each other before both of them wiped their mouths, letting out some gagging sounds along with 'ewwww."

"Burt!" Finn shouted, turning his head around. "What the hell?"

"It's kinda wake-up call for some guys who were talking like little girls instead of watching the ballgame," Burt mocked. "I even blame you two for the Real Deal having fell apart. Seriously, what the heck are you doing here?" he scolded.

"Um," Finn rubbed the back of his neck, his large frame shrinking in his chair.

"Now focus on the game," Burt demanded. "Then Mets might turn the table."

However, Finn didn't believe that it could happen since by far the only player had sent a ball to the outfield was Wilmer Flores. None of the Mets seemed to handle with the cutter thrown from the left arm of the MadBum. And his mohawked best friend seemed to lose interest in the ballgame too. So he decided to keep fulfilling his curiosity about the correlation between marriage and sex (you know, for his own sake).

* * *

Rachel furiously wielded her pen while she was waiting for her friends to arrive at a café. Since Santana had given them her Kama Sutra, Rachel had been taking note; her (and Finn's) accomplishment (or failure, like, in 69, due to their height difference), her sentiments, her ideas to make the positions more creative, etc., whether it had been before Santana's guidebook came to her life or after.

"Sixty nine is overrated, Berry," Santana said matte-of-factly, peeking into Rachel's binder from behind.

Rachel practically jumped up on her chair and almost fell onto the ground. "Santana!" she hissed, abruptly closing her binder. She blushed like a peony.

"It's the truth, Berry," Santana started, perching herself on the chair across from Rachel. "Best orgasms depend on how you and your partner devote each other. In that respect, sixty nine's a total façade. Oral sex doesn't work when two people simultaneously try to please one another."

"Keep your voice down!" Rachel whisper-shouted as she looked around restlessly, holding her binder into her chest.

"Well, guys maybe love that position since they get easily satisfied when a woman merely swirl her tongue around the tip," ignoring Rachel's demanding, Santana kept talking in a normal voice. "Plus, for guys, visual stimulation is one of the most important factors to get turned on more than for girls," she concluded.

"What're you guys talking about?" Kurt chose the moment to slide himself into the chair beside Rachel. "Hello, ladies," he greeted, stirring his mango passion tea frappuccino with a sipper.

"Sixty nine," Santana responded nonchalantly. "Rachel and Finn failed it because of their height difference."

"Santana!" Kurt gasped. "Don't you ever bring their sex life into our conversation," he demanded, plugging his fingers into his ears. "Or else, the image would burn in my head!"

"I just answered your question," Santana rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her coffee. "Weren't you at the bachelorette party when she was blabbing?"

"What?" Rachel shot up her head to look at the Latina. "What did I say?"

"Speaking of which, I've got something you would love," Kurt announced excitedly, not bothering to explain what had happened at Rachel's bachelorette party. He fished a DVD disk from his Prada record bag. "Since I can't listen to her blabbing anymore, which has traumatized me already if you must know, I, Kurt Hummel, officially depute the video editor to you. Just include this footage," he said, handing the disk out to Santana.

"What did I say?" Rachel repeated. "What are you guys talking about?"

"Berry, chill out," Santana made Rachel's whine stop with a stern look. "You just told us how happy you and Finnocence were. So we decided to use the footages at the bachelorette party for the rehearsal dinner."

"But he just said that he couldn't listen to my blabbing and it had traumatized him!" Rachel retorted.

"He's just jealous of your relationship with Finn, Berry," Santana placed his hand over hers on the table, trying his best to suppress the urge to laugh. "Don't worry, I'll erase or insert bleep audio if you use expletive words."

Rachel stared at the Latina suspiciously for a moment. "Fine," she finally said. "But do not forget that my fathers and Finn's parents will attend at the rehearsal dinner!"

After the schedules of dress fitting and purchasing bridesmaids gifts were settled and Rachel had gone to work, Kurt asked. "So? What am I left here?"

"Payback," Santana smirked. "Well, okay, they came to ridicule themselves, but no matter how it turned out, the fact remains that they sabotaged the party."

"Are you planning sabotage the bachelor party?" Kurt widened his eyes.

"We're not gonna show up at the party, Lady-Hummel," Santana announced. "Why do we have to let them see our body smeared full of jello for their entertainment?" she snorted.

Kurt's eyes lit up. He didn't like Puck's idea, not one bit. Yes, what he had feared most would be happening. Jello wrestling. It was lame and juvenile and disgusting in his criteria. Besides, it was no exaggeration to say that he had suffered from nightmares since he had been forced to witness Puck's junk. Even though he was gay, he didn't want to have to see his friends' penises. So he had a right to teach them some lessons, didn't he?

"What do you have in your mind, then?" Kurt finally asked expectantly.

"Well, I bet you'll like this," Santana started.

* * *

The next day, Finn was entering to a café at the corner of Broadway Street and W 54th to grab a bite on the way back from his favorite music instrument shop nearby as Puck called his name from behind.

"What're you doing here? Don't you have work to do?" Finn glanced at the time on his wrist.

"Do you remember Lieutenant Shor? He's Captain Shor now," Puck started, joining Finn in line. "I've got an urgent call from him this morning. Biff McIntosh is being suspected of some other crimes."

"Then you decided to loaf on the job on the way back to the station?" Finn craned his neck to look for Puck's buddy over the Mohawk's shoulder. "Where's Spencer anyway?"

"He's off duty today," Puck shoved Finn forward lightly to make an order for drinks (and some pastries for Finn).

Once they were settled at the table by the widow, they idly started to discuss the postseason prospect of the Mets and the new season of NFL. When their discussion got heated up, Puck suddenly asked.

"Isn't Berry rehearsing at this hour?"

"Huh?" Finn stopped munching his pastry. "Why did you ask? Of course she is," he said, resuming stuffing the rest of the donut into his mouth. "I'm gonna stop by the rehearsal studio later."

"Are you sure?" Puck's gaze followed the people walking on the street instead of looking at the music teacher in front of him. "Look at 10 o'clock," he jerked his chin toward the outside of the window. "Have you duplicated Berry to make your three-way fantasy happen or something?"

Finn twirled his head around to take a look at the direction his best friend had just mentioned. Sure enough, the woman who looked like Rachel, correction, his fiancée Rachel had just crossed the crosswalk walking up Broadway Street. He frowned. The rehearsal studio was at the corner of W 50th Street. And it was not her lunch hour.

Hmm.

She seemed to sneak around recently; she got a lot of phone calls and when she took the phone she immediately ran to the bathroom to talk with whoever had rung her. He was thinking that she might discuss the wedding plan and stuff. But did she really? He didn't (want to) think that Rachel was still mad at him about the kiss. Wasn't she, right?

The sudden urge to figure out what she was keeping from him bubbled up to his stomach.

Finn abruptly got out of his chair and rushed into the street to follow his fiancée.

"Whoa," Puck ran after Finn in a rush. "What do you think you're gonna do?" he grabbed him by the shoulder.

"I'm following her," Finn shrugged his friend's hand off of his shoulder, not bothering to turn around to look at him. "She's hiding something."

"Huh? You think she's cheating on you?" Puck asked. "Who in the earth do you think wants to tap Berry? Sure, she's kinda sneaky hot, but I don't think there's no one but you that thinks about it," he chuckled, walking side by side.

"Fuck you, Puckerman," Finn roughly shoved Puck by the arm. "I'm not saying that she's cheating on me! I don't believe that she is. You should be sweating yourself," he retorted when his left eye caught something, someone familiar who was just climbing out of the subway station. With some thirty something dude. Who was about to hold his hand out to her to help for the stairs.

Oh my fucking God. Should he tell Puck? The guy must be the one Rachel had mentioned.

"What the hell are you talkin–" Puck ceased his words as his eyes also caught the figure that looked very much alike his own wife. "The fuck?" he hissed before turning his eyes toward Finn. "I've got to go," with that, he walked away from him, following Quinn and an unfamiliar dude, before Finn could say something.

Finn shuddered, not wanting to think about what would be happening to the married couple after this, before shaking his head, resuming his task at hand.

When he crossed the 9th Avenue to walking along on the W 55 Street, he saw Rachel coming to a halt in front of some old building and looking around the street. Finn promptly crouched down to hide himself behind a car, ignoring the eyes of the people who were passing by him.

A couple of minutes later, a guy, very very handsome with blonde haired guy, maybe the same age as Finn's, approached Rachel and hugged her. Then he handed, keys? Yeah, definitely keys, to her. Rachel laughed at something the dude said to her, then disappeared into the building. Together with the dude!

What the fuck?

Finn dropped his jaw open.

Pulling himself together, he hastily pulled his cell phone out of his back pocket and typing furiously.

**Hey, babe. I'm in the neighborhood, so I was thinking I could drop by the rehearsal studio? Do you want me to bring something? How about vegan cupcakes at the bakery nearby the studio? – Finn**

Tapping his foot impatiently, Finn waited for her answer for several minutes.

**That would be great, but I'm afraid that the rehearsal venue had been changed today. And I think I'll be late home tonight. :( Could you bring some home? Love you. 3 – Rachel ***

He looked up at the building for a moment, then he read her text again. Was she lying to him? Did this building really have a space the cast could rehearse? He didn't think so. And who the fuck was that dude anyway? Finn had been to the rehearsal studio at times to pick her up or just call in to have lunch with her. But he had never seen or been introduced the guy.

Finn felt sick.

No, no, no. Rachel was not that kind of girl. Besides, they were getting married in over a month, for fuck's sake!

Approximately thirty minutes later, Finn decided to get home in defeated since Rachel didn't seem to emerge out of the place at any minute, hoping that there had to be some good reasons.

* * *

"Happy birthday, Finn!" Rachel happily announced as she walked into the bedroom, the breakfast on the tray in her both hands.

Finn yawned before sitting up on the bed and glanced at the time on the nightstand. It was nearly 9 am. He had gotten a little bit drunk the previous night, finding an outlet for his bottled up emotions, and totally forgotten his own birthday. "You already took our dog to the park?"

"Hmm-hmm," Rachel deliberately placed the tray on his lap before climbing onto the bed. "You were sleeping like a log, so," she shrugged. "Besides, today is your birthday!" she leaned closer to him, giving him a chaste kiss onto his cheek.

For a moment, Finn looked around the bedroom, where dozens of colorful balloons were hanging from the ceiling. "Wow," he blinked a few times. "You did all of them while I was sleeping?"

Then he shifted his gaze to the tray, where 29 homemade small cupcakes were neatly placed and each of the cupcakes had a tiny flag written the reason why she loved him (which had gotten their tradition since they had started living together; every year added one more reason. Well, Rachel was three years younger than he was, so it was a bit unfair to her, but she had said that she wouldn't care).

The sweetest guy I've ever met, The most caring person I've known, The hottest guy in the entire world, The greatest cuddler in the planet, Your passion for kids at your school, Your passion for music, Your passion for drums, Your singing voice, Your dancing, Your dorkiness, Your awkwardness, Your ADORABLE clumsiness, Your protectiveness, Hardworking, The relationship with your parents, The way treating your friends, The way loving me, The way respecting me, The way looking at me, The way running your fingers through my hair, Making me safe, Making me feel beautiful, Making me feel sexy, Making me happy, Your freckles, Your beautiful amber eyes, The fact you want to be with me, And I love the way you are.

And this year, she added _that_ mole to the rest.

"Rach, this is not the reason," Finn said, but chuckled nonetheless.

"You did add my mole under the armpit three years ago," Rachel giggled.

"Right," Finn took her left hand and kissed the knuckle of her third finger where the engagement ring was sparkling, then kissed her lips too.

"Alright, I have to go to work," Rachel announced, patting his knee before climbing out of the bed. "Your birthday gift is waiting for you in the living room. I thought that it would be better when our apartment would be finished remodeling. But it's two months ahead. So I asked some transporters to carry it in here. It takes up too much in this apartment, but you'll love it. I know it. See you at the studio at 6:30!"

With that, Rachel left the apartment.

Okay, she might have had a meeting or something for work yesterday, and the guy who had given her the keys was a new cast mate or an agent or something. She had told him everything about her work, so she eventually would tell him about the guy.

He decided that her mind was just occupied with the opening night in the next month and the wedding planning.

* * *

The antique pinball machine (which his eyes had caught at Chelsea Antique Garage two years back but it had been already purchased by some other guy when they had approached the vendor—how did she find the exact same machine?) and delicious sushi totally distracted Finn's mind, the handsome guy of the previous day all forgotten.

"How did you find it?" Finn asked when they emerged out of the Japanese restaurant. "The pinball ma–" he stopped speaking in mid-sentence as Rachel led him in the direction where Finn hadn't expected. "Wait, where are we going?"

"You'll see," Rachel winked at him, keep walking up the street, pulling him by the hand.

As they got closer to the place Rachel had wanted to take him to, Finn got confused. Was she going to take him to that building? Why? He didn't think that she would buy another apartment because they didn't need it.

When they finally got to the place, Finn realized that it was actually the building where he had seen her and the guy meeting the previous day. Finn couldn't be more confused.

Rachel turned around to face him, pulling the keys out of her purse, hanging them in front of her. "Let's go inside!" she beamed at him.

Finn found that the building was an ages-old theater.

"What do you think?" Rachel asked.

"Of what?" still confused, Finn scratched his head, looking over the floor which was broken in places.

"You were saying that the art program in Region 9 hasn't progressed quite well? Funding wise, and a venue too?" Rachel said, walking into the area that looked like it used to be a stage. "So, I thought that this place would be sort of a start."

Rachel continued to explain how she had found this place. Long story short. When she had demanded that the pinball machine vendor get hold of a purchaser to resell the machine to Rachel, it turned out, the purchaser was a son of one of the Broadway theater owners (so that he knew who she was). Not only had Rachel succeeded buying the pinball machine from him, but also made him nod his agreement to cooperate on using the building for a fundraising event and the art program too. For free.

"All we have to do is to hold a fundraising event here!" Rachel clapped her hands excitedly. "Tina, Santana, Blaine, Artie, Mr. Schue, Elliott, all my friends and cast mates would love to perform for the event!"

Finn got agape as he listened to her story. Then he inhaled and exhaled deeply in relief before blurting out. "I saw you two yesterday."

"What? Come again?" Rachel span around to see his fiancé.

"You and the son of this building owner," Finn said approaching her. "I saw you two entering the building," he pulled her into his chest, "when I texted you."

"Oh," Rachel let out a word against his chest before looking up at him. "I didn't mean to lie to you, Finn. I just wanted to keep a lid on this until today. I'm sorry if I caused you so many worries."

"Don't be," Finn breathed against her hair. "I–" he choked. His heart was full of happiness. "I just, I really love you, Rachel."

"I love you too, Finn," Rachel said back, snuggling further into his chest.

"I thought," Finn started before Rachel finished his sentence.

"I was cheating on you when you saw us?"

"No!" He raised his voice. "I mean, I was wondering why you keep something from me. You know, I've never seen that guy before."

"I'll be introducing him when we make the event happen."

"Okay," with that, Finn scooped her up and kissed her passionately. "Too bad you're on the rag. If not, I would push you down here to make love to you right here right now."

"Totally," Rachel agreed, wrapping her legs around his middle. "But I'll be making it up to you," she whispered in his ear, "I've got two pairs of handcuffs from the bachelorette party."

"Awesome," Finn grinned at her. "I'm gonna totally use them," he declared before kissing her once again. "Now let's get home, shall we?"

Rachel nodded. "Happy birthday, Finn."

"Thank you, Rachel. I'm the luckiest guy to have you," said Finn, depositing her on to the ground.

Then they got on their way back home, hand in hand.

* * *

**A/N: Marshmallows=Rachel's boobs, gummy bear=one of Rachel's private parts (her pea, more specifically) or oral sex in Finn's dictionary, in case those who don't know. And Lieutenant Shor is OC in 'Who's the Next Door' (but not so important character in this story either).**

**Please review :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thank you for reading my story and sending the responses!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee and its characters, and any resemblance to real persons or organizations is purely coincidental.**

* * *

**Chapter 7 – September 2017**

"Rusty! No! Bad! Bad boy!"

Since the pre-war vintage pinball machine had arrived at Hudson-Berry's temporary apartment, Rusty had gotten it into his head that it was his new toy to play with.

By his new toy to play with, he meant that the toy to be allowed to chew.

"Rachel, it's fine," Finn said emerging out of the bathroom. Rachel kept screeching more than necessary, which reached his ears while he was on the John.

"But this is as scarce as hen's teeth!" Rachel retorted as she desperately pulled the dog away from one of the pinball machine legs.

"Whoa, easy, Rach," Finn took Rusty from her hand before depositing the dog on his pillow beside the couch in the living room.

Finn knew that Rachel got extremely distressed as the opening night was approaching. She was having enough on her plate. Not only the planning of the wedding and the fundraising event for the art program of the elementary schools in Region 9, but also, especially, the opening night in three weeks.

She had performed as lead roles on Off- Broadway and Broadway before and he had witnessed her distressed when the opening night of _Wicked_ had approached, yet she had overcome it nonetheless. She was always confident when it came to singing and acting. It was her life, let alone her career.

However, this was a total different from the previous shows she had been on. This was _Fanny Brice_, _the_ Barbra Streisand's legendary role, from _the_ musical that nobody had ventured to make the musical in revival happen since the original one had on Broadway and West End.

Rachel had once told him that the classic musicals were cast-dependent, and the cast should be likely to sell many tickets on their names. That was to say, the profitability rested on her shoulder, even though Rachel, as _Elphaba_, had garnered immense praise.

You might say that Finn and Rachel should have been more considerable to pick up the wedding date. But there had been no way for them to know that Rachel would get the lead role of Funny Girl. She hadn't even known about _Funny Girl_ to be opened in revival at that time yet.

"I got it!" Rachel declared as she threw Mr. Mets Plush doll—Rusty had considered it as his chew toy, ignoring Finn's resistance—onto the dog pillow. "I'm gonna knit furniture socks!" she nodded to herself. "I gotta go to get some yarns."

"Rachel, baby, wait up," Finn hooked his hand on her shoulder from behind to stop her from leaving the apartment, only in a pair of tiny short and a camisole. Without a bra! At 10:30 pm!

He turned her around to face him before getting to the same eye level, placing his hands on her both arms. "I don't think the store is opened at this hour, Rach. Besides, you do _not_ go outside in these," he pointed to her clothes. "And you don't have time to do that, either, do you?"

"I've got a lot of time, Finn!" Rachel insisted, raising her voice. "Oh my God!" she abruptly cradled the front of her neck with her both hands, widening her eyes in panic. "Is my voice hoarse? Did you notice it?" she said, trying to make her voice as small as possible.

"Your voice is fine," Finn assured her.

However, Rachel didn't buy it even if Finn was right.

She shook her head. "I have a scratchy throat," she whispered, her eyes already watering. "On, no. No. This is not happening right now," her voice was barely audible.

"Rachel, breathe. Your voice is fine, I swear!"

Finn tried to calm her, rubbing her arms up and down, but to no avail. Rachel rushed into the bedroom without a single word.

Finn turned around to find the dog happily chewing Mr. Mets. "Don't stress her out, buddy," he warned, despite he knew that Rusty was not at fault.

The Jack Russell Terrier merely barked once with a smug face at Finn before resuming chewing his favorite doll.

Finn let out a deep sigh, rubbing his forehead tiredly. Then he started to think how to get her focus back or reduce her stress (or would it better for him to distract her from too much pressure that she thought she felt?).

* * *

"Come on, Rachel! Let us show you!" Kurt yelled in the dressing cubicle's direction, impatiently waiting for his soon-to-be sister-in-law to show him and Tina her wedding gown.

A few minutes later, Rachel nervously and deliberately emerged out of the cubicle, gently tugging the side drape.

It was Oscar de la Renta's one shoulder ruffle wedding gown; the mermaid cut hugged the curves of her waist and backside, the shoulder ruffle followed the outline of her chest and flew down toward the other side of her waist, and the ruffle consolidated with the enlarged ruffle of the side drape which made perfect and gorgeous train.

"I'm impressed. You've been keeping in shape as I told you to!" Kurt clapped his hands in satisfactory as soon as Rachel stepped out of the dressing room.

Tina nodded furiously in agreement with Kurt as she sprang to her feet before approaching Rachel. "Rachel, it's absolutely perfect! You look gorgeous!"

The alternation of Rachel's wedding gown was perfect as Kurt had believed it should be. "On the contrary, your soon-to-be husband hasn't listened to what I said though," he added under his breath petulantly.

Not bothering to defend her fiancé, Rachel just beamed at her friends, twirling once. Yet, she didn't let out a single word.

"Rachel, this is completely ridiculous!" Kurt chided, holding up his both hands in the air in disgust.

Pouting, Rachel made her way with shorts steps carefully toward the couch where her purse was resting. She pulled out her cell phone out of it before punching the screen furiously and pressing the send button.

As soon as Rachel sent a text, Kurt's phone buzzed. Fully aware that it was from Rachel, Kurt rolled his eyes, taking the phone from his pocket to read.

**I told you, my throat is hoarse. I NEED to rest my voice until the opening night.**

Kurt rolled his eyes once again. "I can't keep up with you, Rachel!" he decided before turning his head toward Tina. "Come, Tina. We've got a lot of other things to take care of right now," he pulled Tina by the arm, storming out of the private bridal room, leaving Rachel in front of the mirrors.

"What did I miss?" Santana asked as she entered the spacious room, eyeing Kurt and Tina leaving with waves of their hands as greetings at the Latina but without a single word.

Santana made a face before turning her attention to Rachel. "What did you do?" she asked.

Yet, Rachel didn't look up at her. Instead, the brunette was tapping on her cell phone screen.

"Berry, did you hear me?" she asked, plopping herself down on the couch in front of the bride who still was fiddling with her phone.

Finally Rachel lifted her head to see the Latina. Then she held her cell phone before Santana's nose to show her the text she had sent to Kurt a few minutes before.

"Huh?" Santana shifted her gaze from Rachel's phone to her face. "Since when have you been doing this?"

Rachel punched the screen as fast as she could and sent the text to Santana.

**From a couple of days before. I even stopped having sex with Finn given the condition of my throat. The opening night is a matter of life and death. My future career depends on it. I'll do anything to save my voice, whether Finn likes it or not.**

Naturally, Rachel earned the eye roll from Santana too. However, the Latina seemed to like the idea of that Rachel had stopped having sex with her fiancé.

"Good for you, Berry," Santana smirked. "I've been really worrying since you decided to fuck him, you know, as to when and how the genitals of both of you stop functioning. But come to think of it, you two are too amateurs at it given the fact–"

The buzz sound of Santana's phone interrupted her speech. Santana scrolled the screen to read a text.

**Your sexual preference does not articulate our activities!**

"Are you're saying that you've never had rough sex?" Santana arched one of her eyebrows. "Has he never used the word when wanting to bone you?"

Rachel chewed the inside of her cheeks, trying her best to not make them turn pink.

"Berry, are you aware that you're already 25?" Santana scoffed. "You're old enough to use expletive words. Maybe you should audition for Tarantino movies. He has a leg fetish, so you could make it."

The second Santana finished speaking her piece, she folded her arms across her chest, patiently waiting for Rachel's answer.

**I'm not interested in being part of movies, let alone Tarantino's. Not in the slightest. Much as I think he's one of the most unique talented directors, I can hardly look at his works. They are utterly, controversially, and cruelly violent. Besides, even if he has a leg fetish, I'm not his type, judging by the actresses he's chosen for his movies.**

"That was not my point, Dwarf," Santana rolled her eyes. "You're too allergic to cuss words to give no heed," she said, standing up from the couch. "Alright," she approached Rachel, "as much as I enjoyed your oath to refrain from speaking 'cause you're prone to talk people's heads off, we have to catch up with Lady Hummel and the Asian now. So take off your gown," she demanded, roughly shoving Rachel toward the cubicle. "Make it snappy!"

Rachel gave Santana a look over her shoulder. She was _not_ prone to talk people's heads off! She huffed, but walked into the cubicle anyway.

* * *

"Can I take a break?" Finn pleaded, placing his hands in sparring gloves on the knees, panting. He looked up at his brother standing at one of the corners of the boxing ring, clasping a clipboard into his chest.

"Of course not!" Kurt firmly said as he glanced at the stopwatch in his hand. "You still have two minutes left," he demanded.

As Kurt had announced before, his determined stepbrother really took it up a notch. He introduced sparring to his Boot Camp instead of boxercise, explaining sparring was the most effective aerobic exercise. At first, Finn had thought that it shouldn't be big of a deal because it was 3 minutes per round.

He was wrong.

It was the worst dreadful and horrendous exercise he had ever experienced. He had never been so out of breath before. He used to be a quarterback in high school and be in the basketball team as well. He had worked out hard almost every day.

Now a decade later, he didn't have as much stamina as he used to. How shocked.

But again. This was not what he used to do in high school. Besides, he was not a professional athlete or anything. He was just an elementary school teacher! Why did he have to do this to begin with?

Okay. He admitted that he had gotten so out of breath when he had dashed up the stairs to save Rachel's life about two years before.

He now regretted that he had told Kurt about it. He had a bad hunch that it would make his stepbrother come up with some horrible idea, which was happening right now.

"Come, on, Finn. It's a piece of cake, even for middle schoolers!" chuckled the newly Sergeant Mohawk, who had offered Finn's sparring partner.

"Dose your boss know that you're shooting the breeze right now?" Finn glared at his best friend. "Or should I say that you've got someone to deal with instead of me?"

"No," Puck narrowed his eyes. "Besides, I told you, I've got three days off," he said, standing on the defense with his punch mitts. "Come on, Finessa. Two more minutes, then it's done. Consider these mitts as Berry's face, then you can take out your sexual frustration," he smirked.

"I'll never punch Rachel in the face!" Finn retorted as he resumed punching in the mitts.

He should have known this was coming.

He had slipped his tongue about Rachel's 'sore' throat problem while hanging out with his friends at the bowling alley the other days.

Once her time of the month had been finished, the next she had refused to have sex with him to save her voice until the opening night. That had been, of course, declared by the text Rachel had sent to his cell phone, even though he had sat beside her on the couch (he hadn't been able to resist rolling his eyes).

Which meant, he had to hold out on sex for almost a month!

Puck had been like a kid at Christmas when he had heard Finn's confession.

Finn had been underestimated how determined Rachel could be.

At first, he had taken her vow of silence lightly, thinking that she would give in eventually if he followed the usual procedure to set the mood for it.

One night, he had scooped the dozing Rachel from behind and started kissing the spots of her neck and shoulder, which usually drove her crazy. When he had hooked his fingers on her PJ pants' waistband… he couldn't help but do a double take.

Not only had a pair of white granny panties been peeked from her PJ pants (When did she get these panties anyway? He had never seen these in the drawers), but also, he had found the following letters on them when he had pushed her PJ down further.

**I can read your mind like a book. So don't try.**

In the front and backside, both.

He hadn't known that he should laugh or cry. Yet, Finn Hudson didn't give up that easily. Determined to ignore her granny panties, he pulled the panties down a little.

He had had to do a double take _again_.

Rachel had worn another pair of panties.

By the panties, which his stepbrother's faces were printed all over!

Needless to say, they had made his sexual libido completely shut down. He couldn't even bring himself to ask her if Kurt knew about it, though he had been sure that his stepbrother had no idea because Kurt would have wreaked on him by now if he did.

"_You_ gotta do this, then you can let off your own sexual frustration!" Finn added, continuing to punch.

"Finn! Puck!" Kurt raised his voice to get Finn's attention before Puck could shoot back at Finn. "Focus!" he demanded. "Five more rounds!"

"What?" Finn shot up his head to see his brother incredulously. "This should've been the last!" he whined.

"Do you really know that you have only a month and a half left for the wedding?" Kurt said, placing his hand on his hip. "Look at you," he looked at Finn up and down. "While Rachel's kept in shape, you've put on weight! You should–"

"Kurt," Finn cut him off. "If you don't notice," he took his shirt off to show off his gained muscle on his upper body, "yeah, I know I gained weight. But I'm not getting fat. I just gained muscle."

"You think that I don't know that?" Kurt snorted. "Sure, you gained muscle mass. But you gained your body fat too, considering the last weigh-in," he looked down at his clipboard and returned his gaze at Finn. "That's because your dietary is more excessive than necessary. And it means that I should be much stricter to supervise your diet and training. So suck it up and do what you need to!"

Finn groaned loudly. "You're unbelievable!" he shouted as he took his gloves off his hands. "I'm outta here," he announced before climbing out of the ring.

"Finn!" Kurt yelled at the back of Finn. "You're not finished!"

"I have somewhere to be," Finn said, throwing his gloves into his bag on the bench.

"And where should it be?" Kurt suspected.

"Um, sign language class?" Finn bluffed, although it was the truth that Rachel had attempted to force him to take lessons together.

"Huh? You can't afford the time, Finn!" dumbfounded, Kurt insisted. "Besides, what for? Are you going to get Special Ed degree or something?"

"No, Hummel," Puck interjected. "Berry goes like," he cleared his throat, summoning his best skill to mimic his fellow Jew, "'_that's so romantic where the couple in the elevator shared their feelings with sign language, don't you think?_'"

"Rachel didn't say that," Finn lightly shoved Puck by the shoulder before mumbling. "She just texted me that."

"Even in the texts, you can hear the way she talks through the phone," Puck responded with a serious face.

"What are you talking about?" Kurt frowned.

"You know her oath of silence because of saving her voice, right?" Puck started the explanation.

"Yes," Kurt rolled his eyes. "So annoying!"

"Berry made a proposition to take sign language class when Hudson has had it, bringing up _Jerry Maguire_, and–"

"Oh, I got it," Kurt cut in. "'_You complete me_,' right? That's one of the most famous lines in history!" his eyes became dreamy, recalling the aforementioned scene, oblivious to his best friend's annoyance.

"Are you fucking kidding me? The only famous line in _Jerry Maguire_ gotta be '_Show me the money_,' you ass," Puck snorted loudly.

"Boys," Kurt shook his head in disappointment, not realizing Finn tried the door in an attempt to escape. Until he did. "Finn!"

Finn halted his hand on the knob, sighing. He slowly turned his head around to look at his brother. "Kurt, give me a break," he pleaded. He didn't need the added headache. "I really have something to do now."

Kurt narrowed his eyes suspiciously, yet obliged. "Fine. But you really have to follow the diet that I gave to stave off the tux fitting failure. You're getting bigger since I measured you up."

Trying his best to suppress his eye rolls at Kurt, Finn only nodded. "Gotta go," with that, he left the boxing gym.

* * *

Finn really had something to do other than sparring.

Sure, he missed having sex with Rachel. But he missed her voice most. He missed the sound she laughed, giggled, rambled, and yelled at him even. He missed her talking to him. Almost everyone thought that he didn't listen to them carefully. But actually he did. Except for Kurt's fashion rants or Rachel's grumbles about her shopping excursion with Kurt.

So, he decided to make her laugh, not like tickling her, which he had already attempted but failed miserably—she had taken double the payback.

**I'm home!**

A few seconds before Rachel got home from the rehearsal studio, she texted Finn. He immediately pressed the play button on his iPod.

Rachel frowned, confused, as she shut the front door close and turned around. All the lights in the living room and the kitchen except a couple of candles were off. And somehow, the music, _I Wanna Sex You Up_, of all the music, was playing softly. Finn was not in there.

When Rachel was about to pull her phone from her purse, the bedroom door flung open as Bryan Abrams started singing in falsetto. Finn, wearing his usual clothes (worn jeans and his favorite Journey T-shirt), tried to wiggle his body as sexy as he could, walking over toward the living room.

Rachel cupped her mouth with a hand, suppressing the urge of giggling, though she never averted her eyes away from every move he was making.

Finn slowly peeled every layer of his clothes along with the song, ignoring Rusty and Ms. Bonaparte giving him looks in disgust. And finally he unzipped his jeans to pull down when Rachel widened her eyes.

He was wearing boxer brief.

A pair of white ones.

Printed _her_ faces all over on them!

Rachel couldn't help but burst out some amount of laughter.

"You finally laughed out loud!" Finn fist pumped, giving her a lopsided grin before walking over to the kitchen where he left his iPhone to stop the music.

"Okay, you win," Rachel said, still giggling. "But, um," she bit her bottom lip, pointed to his groin when Finn turned around, "you can see your peekaboo."

Finn abruptly dropped his gaze down at himself. Sure enough, the tip of his dick got out of the pee hole. He totally had forgotten to button the fly. "Oh shit!" he hurriedly put his penis away in his boxers and buttoned the fly before smiling up at her sheepishly.

Rachel stepped forward to get closer to him, pulling his face toward hers. "I'm sorry I was being overdramatic," she apologized, giving a tender kiss on his lips. "But you failed to turn me on, unfortunately," she giggled. "Though your body is getting more lovely than before," she added, licking her upper lip.

"Yeah?" Finn arched his eyebrow and looked down at his own body before returned his attention to her. "But, I didn't aim for having sex with you, Rach," he said as he handed out female undergarment to her. They were another pair of granny panties, printed Finn's faces. Finn grinned as he heard Rachel laughing again. "You better throw away the other granny panties. They _were_ a big turn-off!"

"That was why I made them," Rachel stuck her tongue out of her mouth. "But don't tell Kurt about them, okay?"

"Why would I?" Finn answered, pulling her by the hand toward their bedroom. "I don't want him to yell at me any more than necessary."

"Was that bad?" Rachel asked as she shimmied to take off her sundress before changing into a Finn's big T-shirt to sleep.

"You have no idea," still wearing the boxers with Rachel's faces, he plopped down on the edge of the bed. "Are you really gonna wear those panties?" dumbfounded, he asked as he saw Rachel pull up the granny panties with Finn's faces.

"Why not?" Rachel shrugged, then walked into the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth.

"So, no more silence? No more sign language class?" Finn yelled in the bathroom direction to make sure, slipping himself under the blanket.

"No!" Rachel yelled back. "I went to see the doctor at the lunch time today, you know, in case if I had false condition in my throat. He guaranteed that everything was fine," she finished as she emerged out of the bathroom.

"Good," Finn said, pulling off the blanket for her to join him. "And not more banned from sex either?" he cautiously asked.

"Yes. I mean, no," Rachel corrected soon after Finn's face fell as she climbed onto the bed. "But it's from tomorrow," she patted his chest lightly.

"You owe me," Finn pulled her body into him. "You ought to make it up for me, babe."

"Well, use those handcuffs then," Rachel jerked up her chin toward the top of the drawers where the souvenir with fluffy pink fur she had gotten from the bachelorette party was waiting to be used. "You can do whatever you want with them," Rachel suggested.

"You promise?"

"I promise."

Finn grinned. "Okay, good night Rach," he said, kissing her temple.

"Good night, Finn," Rachel said back before turning off the light on the nightstand.

Little did they know that someone in somewhere in Upper East Side was having a sleepless night, feeling humiliated since the mohawked Sergeant had slipped his tongue about the granny panties Rachel had made.

* * *

**Please review :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thank you for reading my story and sending the responses!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee and its characters, and any resemblance to real persons or organizations is purely coincidental.**

* * *

**Chapter 8 – September 2017**

Shortly before the technical rehearsals could start, Rachel and the cast got to take days off for a week. So, Rachel and Finn agreed to go to the city clerk office to apply for their marriage license.

Grabbing her clutch from the console table in the doorway, Rachel checked herself in the mirror again. Satisfied with her laced sunflower yellow sundress, Rachel slipped her white flat sandals in (she didn't want any risk to get injured before the opening night), deciding to wander around in the city while Finn was attending a teachers' meeting at school.

It had been a while since she had taken a walk in the daylight. She had still two hours left until the scheduled time to meet up with Finn at the building of New York City Marriage Bureau.

Once Rachel climbed out of the subway station at Franklin St., she started to saunter in the street surrounded by red brick warehouses.

She loved red bricks. It felt warm and safe, and reminded her of her (dads') home in Ohio and the chilling days when her dads had brought a cup of hot milk to a sleepless Rachel who had been turned down a solo. That was why she had insisted that their Chelsea apartment be introduced red brick walls in the living room and some part of the kitchen.

She couldn't believe that she had been living in New York City for seven years. Now she was waiting to perform the dream role of her life in a fortnight! And getting married to the love of her life! Next month, Rachel Barbra Berry would be Rachel Barbra Hudson!

"Rachel Hudson. Mrs. Hudson. Rachel Hudson, Mrs. Hudson," she repeatedly mumbled under her breath with giggles.

She couldn't hold herself from bursting out her bliss, starting literally skipping as she headed to Hudson St.—See? The street name was even the same!—, completely unaware that people passing by her were giving dirty looks as if she were mental.

Then Rachel remembered that Tina had once said there was a great coffee house nearby Washington Market Park when she got to Hudson St. So she went round to the left, walking down the street to Duane St., a huge grin still in her face.

Rachel found the coffee house Tina had mentioned on the right side of the street, just past Duane Park. It was a small, yet had a very cozy atmosphere. It had even red brick walls inside! And had really good coffee!

Today was going to be a good day! She knew it!

After her order, Rachel perched herself at the counter by the windows facing the street. She took a bite of vegan banana nut muffin in satisfactory, joyfully swinging her feet back and forth, looking over the scenery and people walking past the coffee house.

At the moment that she turned her attention to a restaurant across the street, something caught her eyes.

A very familiar blonde woman's face.

Well, partially.

But she was sure that the woman was Quinn.

Rachel tilted her head to one side, wondering why the married woman came to Tribeca all the way from Bronx, or Upper East Side for that matter, where Quinn was working as a product manager of some luxury fashion brand.

Rachel shrugged, deciding that it might be her day off.

When she started thinking that maybe she could join her in lunch, she realized the married woman had a company.

A male company.

Not that she could clearly see him from the coffee house, yet, it was obvious that Quinn's company was a male since he was wearing a nice gray summer suit and his hair was disconnected undercut.

She decided that Quinn was having a business meeting or something over there, which meant that she couldn't impose herself on them. So, instead of joining the police officer's (sergeant) wife, she stared at the back view of the man for a moment, daydreaming as to what Finn would be like in that suit.

Her reverie, however, was cut in short.

Rachel snapped out of her daydream, dropping her jaw open as she saw the suit guy placing his hand on Quinn's. She stopped her hand from delivering her muffin to her mouth when the guy across the table intertwined his fingers with Quinn's.

And, he leaned his face closer to Quinn's and–

_Oh my God._

Rachel gasped as their faces collided. She didn't even notice that a big amount of crumbs of her muffin fell on her lap.

Was that guy from the bar where Santana had forced Quinn to get hit on? Rachel didn't remember his face, or more precisely, she hadn't paid any attention to the guys who had attempted to make a pass at the blonde woman at that night since her attention had concentrated in one guy: her fiancé.

If he was that guy, seriously, Quinn was really obsessed with side shaved men, wasn't she?

Okay, that was irrelevant here.

Rachel had been thinking that the guy was just a friend of Quinn's because Quinn herself had told so, despite they had seemed to frequently meet up since they had met.

Rachel's heart started beating faster.

What was she supposed to do? Should she keep her mouth shut as if she saw nothing? Or should she tell Finn about this? Or should she tell Quinn first in person what she was seeing right now?

Because even though Noah Puckerman could be really rude and crude, it wasn't changed the fact that he was Finn's best friend, and she didn't want him to get hurt, either. She knew that the Mohawk really loved this woman. And she wanted to believe that Quinn's love for her husband hadn't died.

Right?

"–right?"

"Huh?" Rachel was forced to pull her eyes away from the restaurant across the street as a female voice came from her behind. "Sorry, uh, yes?" she said, giving a nervous smile at a small Asian girl with glasses who seemed like a teenager.

"Are you Rachel Berry, aren't you?" the girl repeated, looking at Rachel expectantly. She clasped some paper in her hand. "May I have your autograph please?" she handed out the paper and a pen to Rachel.

"Oh," Rachel gave the girl a big smile, always appreciating meeting her fan. "Sure," she took only the paper from the girl's hand. "I've got my own pen," she announced, fishing a gold sharpie from her purse. "See? Pink and gold are my signature colors."

With that, Rachel wrote her autograph on the paper, a gold star at the end, of course.

"Here."

"Oh, my Gosh! Thank you!" the girl said, clutching the signed paper into her chest, wringing her upper body in excitement. "I'm really looking forward to seeing your version of _Fanny_! I asked my mom to get a ticket for me!"

While the girl was going on and on as to how excited she got because she was a huge fan of hers since she had seen _Wicked_ and _Funny Girl_ was her favorite musical too, Rachel slightly angled her head toward the restaurant.

"Sorry, what is your name again?" Rachel asked, out of the corner of her eye, seeing the couple walking into the restaurant, before returning her attention to the girl standing beside her.

"Dottie," the Asian girl replied. "Dottie Kasatori."

"Dottie," Rachel smiled as sweet as possible, giving a once-over at the restaurant, "as much as I'm enjoying meeting my fan, I should get going, uh, I have to go to the city office," she pretended to check the time on her left wrist as if her bracelet were a watch.

"Oh, I shouldn't hold you up then," the girl named Dottie apologized.

Free from the teenage fan, Rachel hastily got out of the coffee house, trotting into Greenwich St. Her mind was being occupied with whom Quinn was with.

However, much to her disappointment, Rachel couldn't spot Quinn and her company in the street when she took a left into Greenwich St.

Rachel plumped her shoulders dejectedly, realizing that she had lost their sights. Shaking her head to pull herself together, she resumed her walk down the street, and then cornered into Reade St., deciding to continue her stroll in the city.

* * *

A few minute walk later, Rachel came to a halt in front of a bike shop on Reade St., recalling that Finn had mentioned a couple of days before that he would like to get a new bike for his new academic year.

Quinn and the mystery guy all forgotten, Rachel looked inside through the windows, shading her eyes with her both hands, starting to regret that she should have gotten one for his birthday instead of the vintage pinball machine (only if Rusty didn't get so obsessed with the machine).

"Interested in something?" asked one of the shop assistants with many tattoos on his arms after Rachel examined the inside of the shop for a long moment, opening the glass door, poking his head through it. "How can I help you?"

"Um–"

"It's okay you're just looking," he smiled, encouraging her to come inside, as he saw Rachel struggling how to reply.

Rachel just nodded and entered the shop. She felt like she was out of place once she stepped inside. She didn't know how to reply properly when the shop assistant asked what she had been looking for. Until one particular bike caught her eyes; blue and green colors, which were Finn's favorite, were painted its body.

"That's a cross bike," the tattoo guy informed. "Frames and front fork are made of chromoly steel. A bit heavy for you, I suppose. But chromoly offers a much smoother ride than aluminum–"

"Oh, no, no. it's not for me," Rachel dismissed him off with a wave of her hand, not that she was following what he was talking about. "I was just thinking whether or not I should get a new one for my fiancé."

"What does he use a bike for?"

When Rachel opened her mouth to respond, another shop assistant with a blonde hair dashed down from the upstairs. "God, there they go again!" he flew his hands up in the air in disgust. "Turn up the music," he told the other shop assistant with a shaved head, jerking his chin up to the sound system.

"No shit. _Again_?" the tattoo guy standing next to Rachel turned his head to look at the blonde guy incredulously.

"That chick is so fucking loud!" the blonde snorted.

Rachel shifted on the spot uncomfortably as the three of the shop guys started grumbling about the sounds constantly coming from the upstairs.

They were clearly talking about the sex noises. They seemed to have had fun hearing the noises at first, yet soon got to be unable to stand since the people on the upper floor kept fucking like an animal for almost two hours around at the lunch time (so that the shop guys having their lunch in the second floor got stuck with hearing their sounds).

"Sorry," the tattoo guy looked at Rachel apologetically. "Where was I? Oh, uh, what does your fiancé use this for? Commuting?"

Rachel nodded absent-mindedly.

Because, she couldn't help but not ignore the conversation the blonde and the shaved head kept having.

Because, the blonde guy was now talking that he had witnessed the pair entering the third floor studio before the thing could start.

And by the pair, Rachel was not so sure, but they seemed like the ones she had seen from the coffee house a short time before.

"Hey, are you–"

Rachel jumped a little on the spot as the ringtone '_Lovin', Touchin', Squeezin'_' by Journey suddenly shrilled at the same time the tattoo guy placed his hand on her shoulder to draw her attention.

She excused herself to take her phone, smiling at the shop guy apologetically.

"_Rach, where are you? You always arrive 10 minutes before I do except for when your rehearsals go on for a long time. Something happened? Are you okay?"_

"Oh, no!" Rachel cried as she glanced at the time on the wall which indicated already 5 past 3. "I'm so sorry, Finn. I totally lost track of time."

"_It's okay. Where are you right now? How long do you think it takes you to get here?"_

"I'm close to Washington Market Park," Rachel informed. "I'll be–" she closed her mouth, starting to think pros and cons. If she grabbed a cab, it would go the long way around since most of the city's streets were one-lane roads, and car traffic allowed only in the eastward direction on Reade St.

Then she came up with something as she eyed the bike in front of her.

"I'll be in 10, I swear! I'm really sorry, Finn. See you there!"

Before Finn could respond, Rachel abruptly hung up on the phone. She turned to face the tattoo guy with a big smile. "I'll take this. And I'll ride it now," she declared as she handed her credit card to the shop assistant.

"You should have this on," the tattoo guy picked up a red helmet from the wall and forcefully put in on her head before she could react.

Rachel gasped at the guy who had just ruined her coiffed pony tail.

"I'm not thirteen years old!" she huffed, fuming. "I know that helmets are required by law only for children aged 13 or younger!"

"Really? You look like it," the tattoo chuckled. "And you'll need this too," he took a bike U-lock from the shelf, showing it in front of her nose with a smirk.

What made him think of that she looked like a teenager despite the fact that she mentioned her fiancé? Rachel pursed her lips, her nostrils flaring. She really really wanted to admonish as to how wrong it was for him to make fun of her by her size. Yet, there was no time to lose right now.

Rachel blew her bangs, composing herself. "Fine, I'll take these, too," she said bluntly, knowing well that she was a good target to spend some amount of her money, but deciding to not dwell on it.

"Are you really going to ride in those clothes?" the tattoo guy asked, still chuckling, looking up and down at her, after he set the saddle height right for her.

"I have no other options," Rachel firmly answered. She didn't like to be late. She didn't give a crap what the tattoo guy thought.

"Thank you very much. We look forward to serving you again!" the tattoo cheerfully said, waving a hand at the retreating view of Rachel through the glass door.

Rachel gave the tattoo guy with a tight smile over her shoulder, before hurriedly pedaling toward her destination.

* * *

Finn was waiting for his fiancée, pacing around a triangle open space at the building of the County Clerk. It had been already over 10 minutes since Rachel had hung up on him.

Approximately fifteen minutes later from he had made a phone call to her, Finn finally spotted his fiancée on Center St.

Agaped, Finn stared in the direction where Rachel was coming from.

She was pumping pedals with full force.

Her skirt was being hiked up on account of it.

Finn couldn't help but burst out laughing as he saw her pedaling like hell. With a helmet!

"Don't you dare!" Rachel chided, panting, as she jammed on the brakes in front of Finn. Her face was flushed by a fierce exercise, beads of sweat standing on her brows. "I didn't want you to wait longer," she said, struggling the straps.

"I'll get it," Finn offered, still chuckling.

After taking off her helmet, Finn gestured to the helmet and the bicycle which he had never seen. "What are those? Did you rent it? To come here?" he asked with a puzzled look.

"Well, actually, I've got this for you," Rachel said, taking her clutch from the frame bag. "I was in a bike shop when you rang me. I thought that I could get here faster than grab a cab," she continued to explain, looking around to find where to park the bike.

"We can ask the staff," Finn said, glancing at his watch before encouraging her to walk toward the entrance of the Office of the City Clerk, placing the small of her back, as they crossed Worth St.

Finally they got to the Marriage Bureau after they managed to find a bicycle parking and were about to check in, a big woman stopped them.

"Uh-uh," the woman shook her head. "We have closed today."

"What?" Rachel glanced at the time on the wall which indicated 3:45 before returning her attention to the woman. She saw her name from the voucher hanging from her neck. "Look, Lauren–"

"Zizes," the woman corrected.

"Huh?"

"Zizes. My name is Zizes. Don't call me my first name. Nobody's allowed," Lauren demanded.

"Well, okay. Ms. Zizes," Rachel spoke up. "I believe that walk-in hours are from 8:30 to 3:45."

However, Lauren jerked her chin toward the clock. "It's already past 3:45," she said in a boring tone.

"It was before 3:45 when we tried to check in!" Rachel gritted her teeth. "You should let us check in!" she raised her voice, her hands into fists beside her body.

"No can do," undaunted, Lauren refused. "Now it's 3:47. Why don't you come tomorrow or whatever. Marriage Bureau still exists for like ever," with that, she walked away from them before Rachel could counter.

Finn stroked Rachel's arm up and down with one hand to calm her, Rachel's red helmet nestled under the other arm. "Baby, we should get going. We can come here tomorrow morning."

Rachel sighed. "I'm sorry, Finn. I shouldn't have gotten so absor–" she abruptly closed her mouth.

"What's going on?" Finn frowned, leading her toward the exit by the hand. "What's bothering you?"

"How's Noah?" Rachel asked, looking up at Finn through her eyelashes.

"Huh?" Finn's frown got deepened. "I don't know. He's fine, maybe? I've not seen him since the boxing gym. He seems busy recently. Why did you ask?" he looked into her eyes, not liking her question.

"I saw Quinn," Rachel blurted out after a good minute.

"What do you mean?"

"I saw Quinn kissing some other guy today," Rachel added. "And at the bike shop, I overheard the shop guys talking about the couple upstairs," she started explaining what she had seen at the restaurant and what she heard at the bike shop.

"Was that the guy from the bar?" Finn asked as they exited the City office, making their way to the bike parking.

"I'm not sure," Rachel frowned. "I don't remember his face. Besides, I merely saw the back view of him sitting at the restaurant across the street," she said, unlocking the bike.

"I've got this," Finn offered, handing the helmet to Rachel, moving the bike out of the parking rack.

"I don't know what to do," Rachel sighed. "I don't want them to fall apart."

"But you're not sure that the upstairs' loud couple was really the guy and Quinn, are you?" Finn said, looking left and right over the street, making sure that any vehicles weren't coming.

"No," Rachel simply answered.

"Then we better wait and see," Finn suggested. "I'm going to sound Puck how he's getting along, though."

Rachel just nodded, hoping the storm between the married couple would never come.

* * *

Not only was Rachel and Finn not sure that the married couple would be hit by storms, but they didn't know that another storm was rising in their West Village apartment.

When they entered the apartment, they heard something rustling in their bedroom.

Finn shared a look with Rachel as he carried the bike into the apartment before motioning for her to keep quiet, placing his forefinger onto his lips. He glanced at the dog perching himself on the dog pillow beside the couch, sleeping. He cursed himself. Dogs were supposed to threaten burglars?

Finn shook his head and then he slowly walked toward the bedroom. To attack some burglar, on the way to the bedroom, he grabbed whatever he could reach his arm as a weapon which happened to the feather wand for Ms. Bonaparte.

He looked at Rachel following him over his shoulder one last time before quietly wrenching the bedroom door open.

Finn and Rachel were taken aback as they saw their clothes hovering all over in the air.

Finn's gaze slowly followed the flying clothes back to figure out where they were coming from.

It was their closet.

He could see the part of the back view of burglar among the clothes rummaging into it.

"Hey, you!" Finn yelled at the same time he jumped onto the burglar, strangling the person's neck with his arm, keeping hitting its head with the feather wand.

"AHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"Rachel! Call the police!" Finn shouted in the doorway where Rachel was cemented on the spot, dumbfounded, his hand still busy hitting the burglar's head.

"Finn! Finn!" the burglar said between panting, desperately patting Finn's arm around his neck. "It's Kurt! It's Kurt!"

"Huh?" Finn halted his hitting hand before looking down at the burglar carefully. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"I-I, can't," Kurt tried to shake Finn's arm off his neck, "breathe."

"Oh," Finn untangled his arm from Kurt's neck before climbing out of his brother's body. "Now tell me what you're doing here!"

Kurt rubbed his neck as he got to his feet, smoothing his attire not to get wrinkled. Then he cleared his throat. "Decluttering awful taste in fashion of both of you in your closet, of course!"

"Huh?" dumbfounded, Finn made a face before shaking his head. "Still. You do not take a liberty to throw away _our _clothes!"

"Oh, so you're saying that you have the right to have bespoke undergarment?" Kurt retorted, his arm crossing in front of his chest. "My faces printed all over on them?"

"That was, uh," Finn was at a loss for words, scratching his head. He glanced at Rachel in the doorway with pleading eyes.

"Humiliating is an understatement in the century!" Kurt raised his voice, fumed.

"Kurt," Rachel sighed, stepping forward. "I'm at fault about it, not him."

"You should've thought before acting, Rachel!" Kurt glared at the brunette. "You should've printed Puck, or Jesse. St. James, or whoever you wanted. But not me!"

"God, Kurt! Don't say that douche's name," Finn groaned, hearing Rachel's ex's name. "And I'm absolutely not gonna let her make her panties printed the douche's face!"

"I'm sorry, Kurt. I didn't mean to humiliate you," Rachel gave Kurt an apologetic smile, placing her hand on Kurt's arm.

"I know why you made them. Puck told me," Kurt still folded his arm across his chest. "You really shouldn't have–"

Finn cursed under his breath. Stupid his own mouth! Stupid Mohawk!

"–taken that stupid oath to begin with, Rachel," Kurt finished.

Rachel sighed again. "Yeah, I know now. But that doesn't mean you can throw our clothes away, don't you think?" she said as sweetly as she could.

"No," Kurt firmly responded. "Granny panties covered by my faces already exist. Which means I can throw away your criminally hideous clothes in return," with that, he started picking up Finn's puffy vests, some of his worn plaid shirts, Rachel's animal sweaters, her knee-high socks and her penny loafers.

"Wait, wait. Hold on," Finn grabbed Kurt by the hand, preventing him from throwing them away, especially, Rachel's belongings, which were really important for him to have, ahem, cosplay sex. "You can throw mine away, but you can't throw Rachel's away," he said in a threatening tone, taking all Rachel's clothes and shoes from his brother's hands.

"And why's that?" Kurt demanded in an attempt to get them back from Finn.

"Trust me, you don't want to know why. But, if you insist," Finn wiggled his brow. "I'm gonna tell you. When we have sex–"

"Stop!" Kurt interjected as soon as he heard the word 'sex,' gagging at the implication. "Ewww," he scrunched his nose.

"No! You can't throw Finn's away, either!" Rachel snatched Finn's plaid shirts away from Kurt while Kurt was busy to shake the thoughts off of his mind. "He looks really good on them! And they're very comfy after I and Finn–"

"Fine! Okay!" Kurt held his hands up in the air, not wanting to know any more about their sex life. "But you better burn the granny panties. And nobody should be knowing about them. Got it?"

"I promise," Rachel frantically nodded.

"And one more thing," Kurt looked at Rachel then at Finn. "Resume dance lessons. I've found a new instructor to help you avoid disgracing yourselves in public."

Finn grunted loudly. "Are you fucking kidding me? You've been torturing me enough by your Boot Camp! Besides, all the instructors you introduced us were unbearable. I don't doubt that the new one will be the same shit," he grumbled.

"You'll thank me later," Kurt responded matte-of-factly. "I already paid her. The same dance studio at 7 the day after tomorrow. If you don't show up, I'll be telling Carole that you were the one to pee into all the recycle bins in the kitchen!"

"You peed on the trash?" Rachel widened her eyes. "In the kitchen?"

"I was drunk!" Finn made an excused.

"But you evaded being punished, lying it was Puck's fault," Kurt pointed. "Don't tell me that you don't remember that Puck was banned from our house for six months."

"I got him a new Xbox in compensation! Besides, it was a decade ago!"

"That was my point. You got drunk when you were minor, peed on the trash cans, lied to your mother, put the blame on your best friend, and you never came clean," Kurt counted on his fingers. "Not only that, but I wasn't allowed to invite my innocent friends in our house for the time being! So you better not make me mad, and show up at the dance studio at 7," with that, he stormed out of the apartment.

Finn let out a deep sigh in defeat, his gaze following Kurt retreating.

"Well, it's not going to be that bad this time," Rachel lightly patted Finn's chest before put away their clothes scattering all over the bedroom.

"I really hope so," Finn turned around, starting to help Rachel pick up and fold their clothes, wishing he could get married to Rachel the next day not the next month, so that there would be no more Boot Camp and dance lessons.

* * *

**A/N: To the honor of the clerks working for Marriage Bureau at the Office of the City Clerk, while I don't know of anybody working there, I don't believe that there are rude workers like Lauren Zizes in this story.**

**Please review :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Thank you for reading my story and sending the responses!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee and its characters, and any resemblance to real persons or organizations is purely coincidental.**

* * *

**Chapter 9 – September 2017**

The next morning, Rachel and Finn made a trip to the Office of the City Clerk again in order to try to apply for their marriage license.

Despite that fact that the person over the counter they had to face was Ms. Zizes (again) all of the clerks, much to their relief, the in-person application process had been taken without a hitch so far since they had filled out the application online beforehand and the required documentation had been perfected due to Rachel's innate attribute.

Except for one thing; Ms. Zizes annoyingly kept calling Finn and her, whatever the reason the big woman had, Julius and Vincent, respectively.

They, however, decided to not bother to correct her nor dwell on it (and the mishap of the previous day either). Getting the license was the most important task at hand.

That being said, Rachel couldn't help but throw one last glance in annoyance at the woman over the counter as they got to feet from their chair, after they had paid for the fee and Ms. Zizes had handed the license to Finn along with the words '_Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Benedict. Now you're free to go._'

Meanwhile, their excitement made them forget about the clerk who had refused to be called her first name once they exited the bureau into the hallway exact 15 minutes later since they had checked in, their marriage license securely in a plastic folder Rachel had brought to not get crumpled. Then they faced each other, and Finn took Rachel's empty hand in his both hands, staring at her intently.

Rachel knew exactly what Finn was feeling right now; she felt the exact same way.

Until a few days before, the marriage had seemed close, yet far.

But now?

After having gotten the license?

It seemed so real! All they had left was that they, a witness and an officiant would sign the license for it to be valid after the wedding ceremony!

"We're getting married," Rachel heaved a breath.

"I know," Finn said in a low voice, nodding.

"We're getting there," Rachel whispered, cracking a smile around her lips.

"Yeah," Finn whispered back, squeezing her hand gently. Then he let go of her hand and scooped her up off the floor, spinning themselves around. "We are, Rach. We're getting married!" he exulted before peppering kisses on all over her face.

Rachel giggled, clinging to his neck, but carefully holding the plastic folder. "So? What do you feel like doing now?" she asked as Finn deposited her down on the floor.

"I really feel like celebrating in our apartment if you know what I mean," Finn wiggled his eyebrow. "But, before that, how about I get you your own bike? To commemorate our Marriage Bureau trips?"

"You're saying that because you want to make fun of me," Rachel mumbled, shaking her head, before putting the plastic folder away into Finn's messenger bag.

"It's not like that, you know that," Finn protested as he draped his long arm over her shoulder.

"You laughed at me riding that bike yesterday," Rachel reminded him.

"I apologized, didn't I?" Finn nudged her side with his hip playfully. "You looked cute in that helmet," he said with a lopsided grin, tapping the tip of her nose with his other hand.

"You're making fun of me! _Again!_" Rachel pouted, swatting his hand from her nose before attempting to pinch some flesh of his upper arm with her fingers. "Oh," surprised, she stared at his upper arm peeked from the sleeve of his T-shirt. "Did your arms get more robust?"

"Yeah? You think?" Finn glanced down at his own arm. "You should tell Kurt about it then. He'd be ecstatic over his own training method paid off," he snickered sarcastically. "So? What do you think?"

"Hmm?" Rachel responded absent-mindedly, still admiring Finn's upper arm, the bike conversation all forgotten.

She shifted her gaze from his arm to his chest covered by his favorite Journey T-shirt—exactly the same one he had worn when they had first met (Rachel had demanded this morning that he should have it on, claiming that it was a metaphor and metaphors were important—which meant that she was wearing the same sundress of the day, too—and that them having not worn those clothes was why they hadn't been able to be allowed to check in the previous day).

Rachel started running her fingers from his chest to his abs. They were getting firmer too. How could she _not_ be aware that? They had had sex multiple times since Kurt had forced Finn into his Boot Camp. Finn getting bigger like this, they could definitely try some of lifting positions written in Santana's version of _Kama Sutra_.

"Um," Finn shut his eyes closed for a moment throwing his head backward as his soon-to-be wife snuck her tiny hands into his T-shirt. "Uh, Rach?" he cleared his throat, looking down at Rachel. "Babe?" he reluctantly halted her hand from running up his bare skin. "As much as I love you touching me," he breathed, "you can't do that now and here."

Rachel pulled her hand away from his abs as she was dragged away from her thoughts, realizing what she had been doing to him. In public. "Sorry," she pulled his T-shirt down. She ducked her head as before looking around in the hallway to make sure that nobody gave them a dirty look.

"It's okay," Finn offered her a lopsided grin. "So? What do you think?" he repeated.

"About what?" Rachel tilted her head, looking up at him.

"A bike," Finn reminded her, already leading her in the direction where Rachel had gotten a bike for him.

"I don't know," Rachel hesitated, stopping her feet in an attempt to withstand his suggestion.

"I told you, you looked cute, Rach," Finn said before leaning closer to her ear. "And you really looked hot," he whispered in her ear huskily.

Sure, he had laughed at her riding that bike. But it was because she looked too damn cute! And honestly, he had gotten turned on a bit, seeing her flushing and sweating when she had stopped in front of him. She had looked like getting an aftershock from her orgasm. Inevitably, he had come to want to take a bike stroll with her.

Besides, if she would wear her short shorts riding on a bike, he could admire her perfect ass as long as he would like to from behind, couldn't he? Though, he didn't want other dudes to be personi–, uh, objectifying her.

Rachel narrowed her eyes skeptically, staring at him for a moment. "I sweated like a pig," she reasoned.

"You did not sweat like a pig, Rach," Finn assured her. "You know how much I love seeing your performance, I mean, _any_ kinds of performance," he punctuated.

"Oh," Rachel mouthed before adding. "Okay, then."

"Okay?"

Rachel beamed at him with a nod, letting him lead her away to the bike shop on Reade Street.

* * *

Having gotten a very Rachel-like bike, painted by pale pink color on the tubes, white one on the forks and wheels (she would definitely be putting gold star stickers on the tubes no matter what anyone said), they decided to get themselves down to West Side Greenway, to take a walk back to their West Village apartment since it was a beautiful day.

When Finn got to the glass entrance for Rachel while she carried the bike out of the shop, he spotted, not quite sure, but a very familiar figure walking down the street. His unsureness came from, one, the guy was wearing a cap (a black one, attached blue and orange embroidery 'NY' letters on its forehead), two, he was keeping his chin down.

"Puck?" Finn mumbled. The guy, who was thrusting his hands into the front pockets, was still a couple of feet away from them.

Rachel snapped her head up to see in the guy's direction. "Is that Noah?" she intently eyed the guy to figure it out.

She hadn't seen Finn's best friend since the bachelorette party, if she had remembered. She knew that the police officer had joined the Boot Camp more often than not because Finn had told her so.

"He's gotten bigger, too, if the guy is _him_," Rachel sounded unsure as well because the cap the guy was wearing hid his trademark.

"Puck?" Finn called out to the guy whose eyes were still fixed on the concrete ground.

The New York Mets cap guy came to a halt to look up in the direction his nickname had come from.

Yup, it was definitely Puck.

"Oh, uh, hey, Huds," Puck awkwardly responded. He looked like a bit surprised. Yet, he soon pulled together, approaching them. "Berry," he nodded to the tiny brunette as a greeting.

"What're you doing here?" Finn curiously asked, though starting feeling uneasy. He just had heard the bike shop assistants talking about the woman, who was most likely Quinn, already having entered the upper floor in the building today (again). He glanced down at his fiancée to figure out if she thought the same thing as he did. As assumed, she seemed to get tense too.

Puck snuck a glance up at the bike shop before returning his eyes to the couple. "I was going to get a bike for Eli's 4th birthday," he jerked his chin toward the shop.

"No!" Rachel hissed in panic. "This store is a total rip-off!" she lied before adding as she saw Puck throwing a skeptical look at the bike which Rachel was carrying. "I would've never come get a new bike here if I knew it!" she reasoned, trying her best to distract Noah from the bike shop. "You should try another store. I bet there are a lot of good stores in Bronx. Wait," she paused with a frown. "Why are you here in the first place?"

"Yeah," Finn nodded frantically to assist his fiancée. "You've never come all the way to this neighborhood. You don't even like the area sub-Soho, do you?" he said as he stepped forward his best friend, placing his hand on his shoulder in an attempt to turn him around.

"Talia moved to the neighborhood last month," Puck explained, mentioning his sister's name before eyeing Finn's hand on the shoulder with a frown. "I just came around here to have her babysit my kids for tonight."

"Oh," Rachel blinked a few times. "Are you planning something for Quinn tonight?" she tried to smile at Puck.

"Nah," Puck snickered. "I gotta work at night, that's all," he responded, although he sounded as if he hid something from them.

"Do you have anywhere to be right now?" Rachel asked, encouraging the detective to walk toward the direction of Hudson River.

"Uh, no? Why?" Puck was still sporting deep frown, sneaking glances at the bike shop over his shoulder.

"I was going to get Finn's bike from our apartment, so we could stroll along the Hudson River. Right, Finn?" Rachel looked up at Finn, furiously blinking to make him play along with her.

"Were you?" confused, Finn asked in answer. "Uh, yeah, yeah," he scratched the back of his head with a nod as soon as he got what he had to do.

"Why don't you come join him? You can ask Finn as to which bike shop is the best, Noah. You know, while I get the bike from home?" Rachel gestured for Finn to take the pink painted bike from her with intense wide eyes.

"Fuck no!" Puck resisted, yet letting Finn and Rachel lead him toward Hudson River nonetheless. He didn't want to waste his money for some overcharging store after all. "I'm not gonna wait for you with him, especially, when he carry this shit," he pointed to Rachel's bike before looking at the tallest guy. "Berry might have made you a pansy, but I'm not."

"That's a very ludicrous, immature, prejudiced and sexist opinion that I've ever heard," Rachel huffed. "But fine. Then Finn's going to get the bike while you teach me how to ride," she changed her tactic to pull Noah away from the shop as far as possible.

"What? Rach, you know h–, OW!"

"Oh, Finny, I'm sorry," Rachel cooed, giving a fake apologetic smile to Finn who was making a wry face with the toe pain from which Rachel _accidentally_ had treaded on. "Are you alright? Can you walk?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Finn petulantly murmured before eyeing his best friend. "So, what do you say, Puck? Can you teach Rachel how to ride a bike?" he said, playing along with Rachel (but inwardly cursing at her).

However, to Rachel's and Finn's chagrin (or relief at the same time), Puck's cell phone interrupted the conversation. Puck hastily pulled out the phone from the back pocket before checking the screen to see who was calling (or had texted) him.

"I have to take this. It's from my boss," Puck held up his phone in the air. "I gotta go," he announced. And without waiting for their answer, he disappeared into Greenwich Street.

Rachel shared a look with Finn. Then they peered in Greenwich Street to see Puck's retraining figure from the corner. They let out a relieved sigh in unison as Puck vanished out of sight.

Even if the bike shop assistants might have stopped chatting about the woman in the upper floor, Rachel and Finn didn't want Puck to be in the shop as long as there was a slight chance for him to eavesdrop.

"That was close," Rachel said, bringing her both hands onto her chest.

"Yeah, it was," Finn nodded. "But at least we managed to make him stay away from the shop, didn't we?" he concluded. "Anyway, we should get going," he paused before gesturing to a trattoria having outside tables on Greenwich Street, "To eat. I'm hungry."

As if on cue, his stomach growled.

"Sure you are," Rachel giggled. "Let's go then," she affirmed, placing her one hand on Finn's gripping the bike forks. "It's my treat, you know, for my apology," she pointed to his toe.

"That's very nice of you, Mrs. Hudson," Finn grinned at Rachel before leaning down to place his lips on the top of her hair.

* * *

"Is that true?" Kurt whispered in Mercedes' ear, taking another piece of crap displayed on a shelf at a gift shop, scrunching his nose.

"About what?"

"Puck and Quinn, separated," Kurt tried to sound as casually as possible, returning the silver cutlery with hideous design around the grips (to his criteria) onto the shelf.

"Yeah, it is," Mercedes sighed. "Quinn moved out to an apartment in Upper East Side nearby her working place. But I don't know exactly when she did."

"I thought Quinn came around judging by the fact that Puck stopped harassing my Boot Camp anymore," Kurt frowned, picking another potential gift to the Hudson-Berry couple from the shelf.

"Then what made you think of that? How did you know that?" Mercedes asked, circling the shelf into another aisle.

"Beth said that she and her brother would stay on the weekend at her mom's apartment when Tina babysat Eli and her yesterday," Kurt informed, following the African American woman into the aisle. "But she also said that her parents had been seeing each other frequently since they had decided the separation, which make me confused."

"I honestly don't know what's going on between them," Mercedes said, pointing to the entrance, deciding there was nothing for her friend to approve. "Quinn seems very busy these days and I haven't seen her since the bachelorette party," she turned to face Kurt when they got to the entrance.

"They have gone through the same situation before, you know, almost filed for divorce a couple of times. But Quinn's never moved out of their house. She just went to her parents' in New Haven, or her sister's in New Jersey with the kids for a while," Kurt remembered. "I wonder if them frequently seeing each other means that they are really heading for divorce this time? Or they are trying to fix?"

"I have no clue," Mercedes shook her head. "Anyway, considering that Tina told you everything Beth had said, all of our friends except for the concerned two people already know that too."

"We know of what?" Santana asked from behind Mercedes. "Sorry, I'm late. Tina will be late too. And Brit couldn't get out of the photo shoot. So? What were you talking about? Or rather, why do you look like you have just come out of the store? Where's Q?"

"This store is a crap," Kurt decided. "We should try another. And if you must know, Quinn didn't make it either. And we were talking about the her and her husband."

"Ah," Santana nodded understandingly.

"'_Ah_'?" Mercedes looked at the Latina in disgust. "You are the one to open up a can of worms, Santana!" she raised her voice, her hand on her hip.

"Whoa, whoa, Wheezy. Take a chill pill," Santana held her hands up in the air in defense. "Why do I have to be accused? Their separation, or Q dating another guy, I don't know, but if that is the reason they're separated, that's Q's decision, not mine. And I'll have you know, it's not my fault either there were worms in the Puckerman's household."

"As much as I consent to Mer who I assume was going to say that your idea backfired on them," Kurt faced Mercedes, "Santana has a valid point. Even if she didn't get Quinn hit on at the bar, the issue lying between the two would come to the surface soon or later."

Mercedes was going to open her mouth to retort, but she didn't. Although she still believed that Santana was partly to blame for the mess between Quinn and Puck, she knew that Kurt was right. The married couple in Bronx had been having a lot of issues over the course of their relationship.

"Fine," Mercedes finally said, yet, not bothering to hide her annoyance at the Latina. "But don't forget that I am Q's best friend, Santana. If you mess her up next time, you would be dead," she warned.

"You're talking to the wrong person. Puck is the one to keep messing her up, not me," undaunted, Santana folded her arms across her chest, rolling her eyes at Mercedes' accusation.

Mercedes shook her head before facing her other best friend wearing a scarf around his neck. "So? Where do you have in mind it is to look for the wedding gift?"

Kurt let out a deep sigh, already feeling exhausted. "Why don't we try some shops in Tribeca?" he eyed the Latina in an attempt to get her affirmation.

"I wish they gave us the registry. It would've been much easier for us to get a gift for them, don't you think?" Mercedes grumbled at Kurt who tried to hail a cab.

"Actually, Berry did give the registry to the guests other than their close friends and families," Santana informed as she climbed into the cab before texting to let Tina know where they were heading for.

"Really?" Kurt followed Santana into the backseat, deciding to set himself between Mercedes and her, though he didn't like to sit in the middle in a cab's backseat.

"Rachel Berry we're talking about here. You know, who _loves_ making lists," Santana snickered. "Do you really think she gives up the opportunity to do what she loves?"

"Then what made her not give us the list already?" Mercedes said in displeasure. "We would've saved our time," she mumbled under her breath.

Santana narrowed her eyes at the African American. "I can't believe myself defending the hobbit, but," she rolled her eyes at herself, "are you suffering from amnesia or something? I sure remember that she told us it was unnecessary for us to get them gifts since they've been living together and will live in the same apartment. This is Kurt's idea in case you've forgotten, by the way," she spat, throwing a glare at Mercedes before sitting back further in the seat. "If you think you wasting your _precious_ time looking around to get her the wedding gift, why don't you just go home already?"

"Um, I'm at fault about this," Kurt sighed before turning his head to look at Mercedes apologetically, placing his hand on hers. "I guess I forgot to tell you. It's kind of a housewarming gift shopping, not wedding one."

"It's fine," Mercedes mumbled.

Sure, Kurt had forgotten to tell her. But that didn't mean that she wasn't going to get some gift to the Hudson-Berry. And she hadn't meant it either when she had said '_we would've saved our time._' She was just annoyed at the Latina and worried about her blonde best friend at the same time. Although she wasn't a closer friend with the brunette than Santana, Tina, and Kurt were, Rachel had been growing on her like one of her family (still she thought that the Broadway actress were talking too much) since she had started dating Finn.

"Isn't that Quinn?"

Mercedes snapped out of her thoughts when Kurt nudged her side to get her attention, pointing to a blonde woman walking in the street.

"Huh?" Mercedes followed Kurt's gaze, looking out of the cab window. Sure it was, Quinn was walking in the street, and entering a building which had some bike shop at ground level. "Yeah, it looks like her," she murmured absent-mindedly. Why was she here? Wasn't she working at this hour? In Upper East Side? She frowned.

"Does the company she's working for have an office around here or something? Weird if that's the case," Kurt returned his attention to Mercedes.

Santana arched one of her eyebrows, looking at the reflection of the building entrance in the rear view mirror while Kurt and Mercedes started discussing Quinn's and Puck's situation.

They might have missed another person following the blonde woman, but Santana didn't. And she knew exactly who he was.

But for now, she decided to keep her mouth shut to entertain herself for the time being.

* * *

Rachel went down the stairs to the basement laundry room in the West Village apartment building. She carried her laundry basket stuffed a big pile of the bed sheets which Finn and her had ruined because of the marriage license celebration the previous night.

God. She really missed their Chelsea apartment since it had a built-in laundry machine.

"Sure, of course," she spoke to her cell phone, skillfully supporting her phone between her shoulder and her ear as she pushed the laundry room's door open. "If Finn doesn't answer the door, come down to the laundry room in the basement. I've got a lot of washing to do today. It'll take me a while I guess."

"_Isn't Finn at home today?"_

"He's out to buy our lunch right now," Rachel informed. "Have you had your lunch already? If not, I can text him to get it for three," she offered as she put the basket down on top of one of the washing machines.

"_Thanks, but you don't have to since I already have. But you have to tell me if he's getting some greasy food or not."_

"Kurt, give him a break," Rachel sighed. "He doesn't need a strict diet. You should take a closer look at his body. It's getting really lovely, not that I've never thought that it isn't though. Anyway, see you at our apartment, uh, in ten minutes? Fifteen minutes?"

Kurt mumbled incoherently, but not pressing Finn's diet further.

"_Fine. I'll be there in fifteen or twenty minutes, I guess."_

Satisfied, Rachel ended the call and started putting tons of the bet sheets and the detergent into the machine. She started humming as she closed the machine door and swiped the laundry card through the slot. What she didn't notice was that her significant partner sneakily approaching her.

Startled, Rachel span around along with a screech when Finn wrapped his arms around her body from behind.

"Finn! You startled me! What are you doing here?"

"What do you think?" Finn smirked, leaning down to attack her lips before hoisting her up on top of the laundry machine.

By the time Rachel got half naked, she completely forgot the situation they were currently in; anybody living in the apartment building could walk in on them. She got too caught up in Finn's mouth and tongue swirling her nipples, his fingers rubbing her clit to care about it. She totally melted in every part of his body.

"_Finn_…" Rachel opened her eyes, sucking in her breath as Finn put two fingers into her hole. "We can't–. _Oh, God_," she gasped at his fingers thrusting in and out.

"Shhh," Finn cut her off, attacking her lips again to quiet her while his fingers accelerating. "This is–" he groaned, feeling that her tiny hand started caressing his clothes groin, "our chance having sex in the laundry room," he managed to let out his words before pushing her shorts and her undergarment down in one swift motion, then pulling his own shirt off over his head too.

Rachel chose the moment that she snapped off her bra and dropped it to the ground.

Finn turned her fully naked body around, getting her belly on top of the machine, before taking a pair of handcuffs with fluffy pink fur from the back pocket of his knee-length pants.

Rachel knew exactly what he was doing when she glanced at the handcuffs over her shoulder. They had already done it in bed the previous night. They had found it one of the best pleasurable positions they had ever experienced. He had been able to hit her right spot with his deep penetration the whole time, which had caused both of them to get intense orgasms.

So, she voluntarily parted her legs and bent them up when Finn positioned himself between her legs. The next, Finn slid himself under her arch shaped arms before leaning down onto her back. Once Rachel felt Finn set himself in the right position, she placed her handcuffed hands behind her ankles.

After enough seconds for admiring her flexibility, Finn nibbled the side of her neck then her left shoulder before pushing his shorts and boxers down. He already got painfully hard.

"Finn, _please_," Rachel desperately pleaded as Finn, caged by her arms and legs, was still teasing her wet entrance by the tip of his dick.

As finally Finn entered her, they moaned loudly in unison.

"So good, baby, so so fucking good," Finn panted, pounding in and out of her as hard as possible.

Combining his penetration with the vibration of the washing machine made Rachel's voice get louder and louder, which drowned the other sounds in the room.

Click sound, coming from the door.

Footsteps, entering the room.

A gasp, let out from someone's mouth.

Someone meant the person who Rachel had talked to on the phone a while ago.

Naturally, Kurt got petrified on the spot.

Kurt had walked in on the couple more often than not. Yet, he had during only them making out. He had never walked in on both of them completely naked, let alone in the middle of getting it on! With fluffy pink handcuffs!

Kurt wanted to turn around. He really did. But too shocked, his feet seemed against it. He couldn't even scream. So, he squeezed his eyes shut instead.

A few seconds (to him, it seemed an eternity) later, finally Kurt managed to move his feet, however, his tensed feet didn't function right. He stumbled and fell backward.

He cracked his eyes open as he was falling backward.

It was like in slow motion.

He could clearly see Finn thrusting in and out of Rachel, let alone his balls slapping her inner thighs. And, and, although he couldn't see Rachel's face, definitely could hear her loud moans (and Finn's swearing along with a word 'baby,' too).

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Kurt screamed from the pain of which his backside hit on the ground, _and_ from the emotional one.

Finn halted his movement as he heard the scream from behind before slowly turning around, holding his fiancée's body with his arms (because it was impossible for him to quickly get himself out of the trap by Rachel's legs and arms).

Now Rachel, who had to face her soon-to-be brother-in-law completely naked, let alone in the worst compromised position, widened her eyes in horror as her eyes met Kurt's.

And she screamed as loud as Kurt had done.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"Dude!" Finn shouted, covering Rachel's boobs by his both arms before frantically looking around for somewhere to hide their naked bodies. But the more he tried to hurry, the clumsier he got.

And he had forgotten his pants and boxers still pooled around his ankles.

On account of it, Finn stumbled over his own feet and–

"Noooooooooooo!" Rachel screamed again, feeling Finn losing his balance.

She knew what was coming. If Finn fell now, he and her would definitely get injured. Considering their posture, she was the one very likely to get injured _worse_. No, she refused that was happening. The opening night was in ten days. She couldn't get injured. She shouldn't get injured.

"Kurt! Kurt!"

Rachel desperately yelled at the guy whose backside was still cemented on the ground. She didn't care about the embarrassing posture they were taking. She didn't care whether Kurt liked it or not. She needed his help, them preventing falling with a weird angle onto the ground.

"Kurt! Don't let him fall! Don't let him fall!"

Rachel spoke as fast and loudly as possible with desperate eyes.

"Kurt! Kurt!"

Kurt snapped, blinking a couple of time.

"Kuuuurrrrrr–"

Rachel shut her eyes close, accepting her ill fate.

However, at the very last minute, Kurt slid himself at the very last minute between the floor and their bodies as a buffer.

_**Clunk.**_

"OOOWWWW."

"Oooooffff," Kurt growled as their body fell on his own.

Rachel slowly opened her eyes, only to find Kurt, who got squashed by two people, making a grimace with the impact. "Kurt, are you okay?"

Kurt just nodded, trying his best to avert his eyes away from their naked bodies on his clothed one.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Rachel sniffed, her eyes already watering in relief as she didn't feel any pain on her body. "Uh, Finn?" she glanced at her lover over her shoulder. "Fin–_Oh, God!_"

Finn got blackout.

"Oh, my God!" Rachel gasped. "Kurt! Uncuff me! Please!" she raised her voice as she tried to untangle her legs from her handcuffed wrists.

However, Kurt was too shocked to move himself from the ground.

"Kurt! Kurt?"

Rachel's voice was ringing painfully hollow in the laundry room.

**To be continued…**

* * *

**Please review :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Thank you for reading my story and sending the responses! Sorry for the late update. Something's wrong with my PC recently—it's very slow, which is so vexing me! Anyway, I've finally uploaded this chapter and am now working on the next chapters. I hope you guys enjoy it!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee and its characters, and any resemblance to real persons or organizations is purely coincidental.**

* * *

**Chapter 10 – September 2017**

"I've got your clothes."

Elliott called out when he approached the hospital bench in the waiting room where Rachel and Kurt were currently sitting. Hooking the garment cover on his forefinger, he held it out to his boyfriend.

"Thanks," Kurt mumbled under his breath, still refusing to look in the Rachel's direction. Once he got to his feet, grabbing the garment cover from Elliott's hand, he disappeared into the bathroom.

Elliott chuckled at Kurt's retreating figure before turning his attention to the petite brunette. "Is he still mad at you?" he asked, perching on the spot where Kurt had occupied.

Rachel sighed loudly.

"I don't think he's going to talk to me or Finn for the time being," she guessed, spreading her fingers on her lap nervously, wondering if Elliott had heard the whole story about the laundry incident. "Did he, uh," she cleared her throat, "tell you everything? I mean, about what happened in the laundry room?" she glanced at him through her eyelashes, unconsciously rubbing her left wrist on which a subtle bruise had been left.

"I'm not sure he told me the whole story, but I've heard enough to get him his clothes here, I suppose," Elliott let out a small laugh, sitting back in the bench.

"Yeah, I thought so," Rachel blushed, ducking her head down.

"Don't be so embarrassed, Rachel," Elliott patted her on the knee. "I'd be shocked a bit too, you know. But we all are adults, so he'll let it go, eventually. Besides, I don't think he's ever gonna want to resign from the best man, and _Sergeant Foley_, either," he tried to make the conversation lighter, "but don't tell him that I called him that," he winked at Rachel. "So? How long have you been waiting here?" he changed the subject.

"Uh," Rachel looked around to search for the time. "About 30 minutes. Finn could possibly have a concussion. So he's undergoing a head CT right now."

"_Oh God! He must have hit his head! Kurt, check up on him. Please, now!" Rachel desperately asked before untangling her legs from the handcuffed wrists. But her left leg was crushed under Finn's large body—unconscious one, which was really heavy and it didn't make her get out of it easily._

_Then, she realized that Kurt also was compressed by their bodies—naked ones. She needed to move their overlapped bodies from Kurt, if she wanted him to unlock the handcuff and call an ambulance. She tried to push Finn's body backward with her backside and shoulders as gentle as she could._

_Kurt gasped loudly when Rachel finally managed to slide their bodies from his._

_At the very same time, the person behind Rachel let out the same kind of sound as Kurt's from its mouth as well._

"_Oh, Finn! Do you hear me?" Rachel asked, glancing at Finn over her shoulder. "Finn? Finny? Answer me!"_

_Finn grunted in answer before trying to roll himself over._

"_Oh, no, no, no, no," Rachel grimaced as her left arm got twisted by Finn's move. "Finn, don't move," she pleaded before adding. "You might have a concussion, so you're not supposed to move. Kurt?" she eyed the guy now trying to get to his feet._

_Kurt seemed to hesitate touching his own attire to smooth down—he looked apparently horrified with the fact that Finn's genitals had been placed on his new Marc Jacobs pants._

"_Kurt? I need you to unlock the handcuff and call paramedics," Rachel continued. "I know you don't want to come near us right now. But Finn needs to be taken care of immediately."_

"_Great," Kurt grumbled under his breath. "Where's the key?" he asked petulantly, trying his best to avert his eyes from their naked bodies as he approached them._

_Rachel turned her head to ask. "Finn? Where's the key? In your pocket?"_

_Finn blinked a couple of times before staring at her face. "Um, I think so, yeah," he sounded confused, still unaware of the current situation._

_Kurt knelt down beside Finn's feet with closed eyes—if he opened them, Finn's groin and Rachel's vagina were in full view—before starting groping around Finn's half-length pants. He shuddered, feeling Finn's undergarment meet his hands._

_After a few struggling moments, Kurt finally found the key. He reached his hand to Rachel's in order to unlock the handcuffs with fluffy pink fur. "There you go," he announced as he unlocked them, and then quickly fled himself from the overlapped couple into the corner of the room._

"_Thank you, Kurt," Rachel appreciated before pulling her left arm from Finn's body. Then she pulled Finn's boxers and pants up and tucked his penis in them while Kurt was making a few phone calls._

"_Finn? Are you alright?" Rachel asked, bending down to caress his cheeks. "Can you tell me your name? What day it is? And how many fingers," she showed her hand with the folded thumb in front of Finn's nose, "do you see?"_

"_Uh," Finn stared at her blankly for a moment, wondering why Rachel asked such questions. "Babe, you know my name."_

"_Just answer me," Rachel demanded._

"_Um, Okay. Finn. Finn Hudson. September 16, 2017, I guess? And four," he answered correctly. "And why are you naked?" he glanced down at her body with a frown._

"_Huh?" Rachel looked down at herself too. She was too worried about Finn to care about herself. "Did you not remember anything? You–"_

_Before Rachel could continue to speak, Finn grabbed her ass with his both hands, letting her on top of him. "I got it, Rach," he said, trying to get a kiss from her. "We were celebrating, right? Now let's get continued," with a grin, he started massaging her butt cheeks._

"_Finn, you don't–"_

"_Ahem."_

_Finn stopped his hand, turning his head in the direction the sound came from. "Oh, hey, Kurt," he greeted with a lopsided grin around his lips as he found his stepbrother standing with crossed arms._

"'_**Oh, hey, Kurt'? 'Oh, hey, Kurt'?**__" Kurt raised his voice, looking in their direction in disbelief. Rachel could see the fuming steam coming from his nose and ears. "Do you realize that you've just put me in a state of post-traumatic stress disorder? You guys definitely have to pay for this!"_

"_Kurt, please," Rachel furiously shook her head, "it's not the right time–"_

"_And you, Rachel!" Kurt yelled, cutting her off. "Get your clothes on! Immediately! The paramedics arrive at any minute!" he screeched._

"Ms. Berry?"

Rachel and Elliott shot their heads up to find a gray haired doctor approaching the bench, a middle aged nurse in tow, pushing a wheelchair where Finn was in.

"Oh, Finn!" Rachel sprung to her feet from the bench, rushing to the wheelchair, bending down to get to his eye level. "Are you alright?" she shifted her gaze up to the doctor. "Is he alright?"

"He had a mild concussion, but the CT didn't show bleeding, or any other serious problems," the doctor explained with a reassuring smile. "I'm Dr. Henderson, by the way," he offered his hand for her to shake.

Rachel got to her feet to take his hand. "So?" she gave the doctor the desperate eyes, "he may go home now?"

"He may be observed at home, yes," Dr. Henderson nodded. "You should stay with him and check on him for at least 24 hours to ensure his symptoms aren't worsening. He–"

"Symptoms?" Rachel cut him off. "Such as?"

"Headache, dizziness, nausea, vomiting, ringing in the ears, fatigue–" the doctor continued possible symptoms and complications which might occur in subsequent weeks. "And physical and cognitive rest is required for 7 to 10 days."

"What do you mean by physical and cognitive rest?" Finn turned his head to look up at Dr. Henderson.

"No sports, no any other trainings, no leisure activities like riding a bike, skateboarding–"

"What?" Kurt chose the moment to return to the waiting room after he had changed his clothes. "What about my Boot Camp? What about dance lessons?"

"I'm afraid I don't think so," Dr. Henderson responded nonchalantly, though he was not sure what his Boot Camp was.

Finn fist pumped as he heard the doctor's declaration, pretending to not notice Kurt's glare at him. He inwardly fist pumped again—not only could he get himself away from Kurt's Glooming Boot Camp for 10 days or so and tonight dance lesson, but also he would make an excuse, claiming he was still suffering from the symptoms or complications afterward. Genius!

Dr. Henderson cleared his throat to continue. "Also no sexual activity, and–"

"What?" Finn shot up his head. "No sex? How long?" he eagerly asked, not aware that he earned Kurt's and Rachel's eye rolls.

"–and playing video games," the doctor continued, ignoring Finn's question, "text messaging, you know, no visually stimulating activities."

"How long am I not allowed to have sex with Rachel?" Finn repeated in a demanding tone.

"Considering the CT result," Dr. Henderson chuckled, "mental rest would better be approximately 3 to 5 days," he suggested. "But physical rest a week to 10 days."

"Ten–"

"Finn!" Rachel admonished with a sharp glare at him before returning her attention to the doctor. "Dr. Henderson, Finn's a music teacher. The school starts the day after tomorrow. Do you think he should take days off?"

"He may go to work," the doctor nodded. "But I highly recommend that he should stay away from high volume or overly stimulating sounds."

"Anything else to note?" Rachel asked.

"That's it for now," Dr. Henderson answered before looking down at Finn. "Your follow-up appointment is next Friday. Until then, take good care of yourself, Mr. Hudson," he patted Finn on the shoulder.

"Yeah," Finn mumbled. "But, could you please tell me that I really have to follow the no-sex stuff? You know, just making sure. I don't need to move if Rachel is on top and–"

"Thank you, Dr. Henderson," Rachel said, cutting Finn off. "Now let's go home, Finn," she shut him up with a sharp glare again, nonetheless helping him stand up from the wheelchair.

"Fine," Finn got to his feet from the wheelchair before holding his hand out to the doctor with a sigh. "Thanks, Dr. Henderson," he decided not to press the sex issue, at least for now, not here.

* * *

"At least you should be happy," Rachel said, approaching the bed end storage ottoman. "You know, you don't have to do the Boot Camp for a while," she said, taking a blanket and a pillow from the storage.

"Where do you think you're going?" Finn eyed Rachel, pushing himself up from the bed on his elbows, when Rachel was about to walk out of the bedroom.

"I'm going to sleep on the couch," Rachel answered nonchalantly.

"Huh? Why? You're not gonna sleep here?" confused, Finn knitted his brows.

"I don't want to get you hurt, Finn. So I'm going to sleep on the couch for the time being," Rachel span around in the doorway, clenching the blanket and the pillow into her chest. "You're always saying that I'm a bed hog. What if I pushed you out of the bed? And you hit your head again? What if I punched you in my sleep?"

"Baby, you won't ever," Finn said, patting the vacant spot of the bed next to him. "Come here. Don't you want to cuddle with me?"

"I'd love to say yes, but I'll pass. Sorry, Finn. You know why," Rachel shrugged, trying the handle of the bedroom door.

"Rachel," Finn halted her. "You can't sleep on the couch. What about your beauty sleep? What about your ritual? The opening night is around the corner, right?" he tried to get her to stay in the same bed. "And I can't get asleep without you, you know that," he gave her his best puppy dog eyes.

Rachel sighed before returning to the bed storage. Then she took some body pillow with an arm to hand it to her fiancé.

"What's this?" Finn frowned, taking the pillow from Rachel.

"It's a girlfriend pillow," Rachel answered matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, I see. It has boobs," Finn said, pressing one of the small mounds attached to the pillow with his forefinger. "When did you get this? What's this for anyway?"

"Right after Kurt broke up with Blaine, Santana and I found his boyfriend pillow named 'Bruce' in his apartment," Rachel giggled, recalling the time she had found Kurt's guilty pleasure. "And Santana got me a boyfriend pillow as a joke. Oh," she cupped her mouth, realizing that she had slipped her tongue. "Don't tell him that I told you this, okay?" she quickly added.

Confused, Finn stared at her for a second. "Yeah. But this is not a boyfriend pillow."

"Oh, I still keep it in there," Rachel pointed to the bed end storage in which the pillows and cushions were contained. "I've just never had the chance to use it. And as for this," she gestured to the girlfriend pillow, "I got for Santana in return. But she refused taking it, saying it was creepy and she didn't need one since she had Brit already."

"And you thought you would need one? Or I would this?" Finn was still knitting his brows.

"Don't get it twisted, Finn," Rachel said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "You do know how I am. I'm always prepared," she patted Finn on his leg, "in case I shouldn't be in bed with you, for instance, like right now?"

"These boobs seem fine, but I like yours better," Finn protested, reaching his hand to her arm to let her lie down on the bed.

Rachel pushed his hand back, refusing lying down on the bed. "I'll be avoiding risk by any means. I have to, Finn, you know that."

"Rachel," Finn sighed. "You're making this bigger of a deal," he argued. "I'm fine. I don't feel dizzy anymore. No nausea, no headache. So, don't worry too much. Come here," he patted the vacant spot beside him again. "We should finish what we did in the laundry room. Now let's get continued!"

"Uh-uh. No," Rachel shook her head, refusing stubbornly. "It's just 10 days, Finn. Besides, I'll be having my period in a couple of days. So, either way, we can't have sex for a while," she stood up from the bed. "But I'll definitely miss sleeping next to you," she pressed her lips to his cheek. "Good night, Finn," with that, she emerged out of the bedroom.

"Rachel!" Finn yelled at Rachel's retreating figure, which caused him to feel dizzy slightly. He cursed under his breath at a determined Rachel. Then he pouted, lying down on the back, staring at the ceiling for a while, defeated by his subsequent no-sex and no-Rachel-on-the-same-bed fate.

* * *

"How's Finn?" Mercedes asked, perching herself on the right side of Rachel to get a pedicure.

"He's fine. Thanks for asking, Mer," Rachel let out a loud sigh. "He plays his 'sick patient' card every chance he gets, though," she rolled her eyes.

"Maybe he's trying to distract you? From the stress of the opening night?" guessed Tina, who was on the left side of Rachel's arm chair.

"I know he is," Rachel shook her head. "But it's getting annoying!" she held her hands up in the air. "And it's also annoying that Kurt's still mad at us," she mumbled under her breath.

"I've heard that, Rachel," Tina whispered, giving a meaningful look.

"About what?" Rachel responded, not bothering to look in her friend's direction, pretending to not understand what Tina was getting at.

"_Brit's Special_," Tina said in a normal tone, nudging Rachel's arm with her elbow. "I didn't know you were that flexible."

"I knew it," with a smirk, Santana chimed in from behind. "Since you decided to get those handcuffs at the bachelorette party, I've been waiting for this moment. And Kurt walked in on you? Never more hilarious," she burst into laughter.

"What? Kurt walked in on them in _that_ position?" Mercedes turned around her head to see the Latina before turning her attention to Rachel. "That's why he's been crabby these days?"

"I guess so," Rachel mumbled. "He's still refusing talking to me."

"He's not a cherry boy," Santana snorted, perching herself on the edge of the console table behind the pedicure chairs. "Do you guys believe that celibate gay people get importunate for explanation about every single sex toy? Which was displayed at the bachelorette party?" she looked around her friends who widened their eyes in a nail salon. "I bet he got some toys for Elliott and himself. Besides, he used to have sex with Blaine in the green room regularly."

"Okay, I don't want to know about his sex life," Mercedes shook her head.

"How did you pull it off?" Tina pressed further as she looked back at Rachel. "I don't think I can do that."

"My long-term yoga practice got paid off, I suppose," Rachel whispered back, blushing.

"Two pairs of handcuffs make it easier if you're not that flexible," the detective wife suddenly joined the conversation without looking up from the magazine that she was flipping through.

All the gang in the nail salon shot up their heads to stare at Quinn, dumbfounded. Then they exchanged looks, not knowing what to react—except for Santana.

"Care to explain, Q?" Santana asked matter-of-factly.

"It's simple," Quinn shrugged, still not looking up at the other girls. "One for your right wrist and right ankle, the other for left ones. And I recommend that you should put a pillow on your belly. It's very supportive."

"When did you–? I mean, you said that you haven't had sex for–"

"Who is he?" cut Tina off Brittany, who was standing next to Santana. "Who is the guy who you're having sex with?"

Quinn finally looked up to stare at the girls. "W-what?"

"You're glowing," Brittany pointed out. "You're having sex, like, every day, aren't you?"

"You know what?" Mercedes chimed in, not wanting her best friend and the mysterious guy to become the center of the talk. "Artie and Kitty got into a serious relationship a couple of days ago?"

"Haven't they already?" Rachel willingly jumped in at the subject Mercedes had just broached. "I thought that they hit if off when they first met at the bar last month."

"They did," Brittany confirmed, oblivious to the subject about Quinn's sex life that she herself had commenced. "I've never imagined that they would move in together this fast."

"They moved in together?" Rachel widened her eyes. "But it's been a month since they met!"

"Look who's talking," Santana rolled her eyes. "You've been living with Fetus Face since, like, forever, haven't you?"

"Santana!" Rachel flared her nostrils. "How many times do I have to tell you not to call him names! He doesn't have a fetus face! He's the most handsome guy in the–"

Santana's loud snort made Rachel stop speaking.

"What?" Rachel glared at the Latina, folding her arms across her chest. "It's true that he's hot. And we decided to move in together about six months later we officially became a couple. Even having sex with him for the first time was three months later we met," she unconsciously raised her voice. "You're one to talk, Santana. You let Brit live in your loft the second you laid eyes on her, didn't you?"

"You guys all are profligate," Mercedes rolled her eyes.

"Are you what ten years old or something? Don't tell me that you saved yourself for marriage," Santana retorted. "What?" she blinked a couple of times as she saw the African American blushed. "Wow, so it's true? I had it by hearsay, but I never believed it."

"It's none of your business," Mercedes murmured. "Everybody is not promiscuous like you," she added in barely audible voice.

"What's wrong with saving myself for marriage?" Rachel spoke up on behalf of the African American, making a face at Santana, before turning her head to see Mercedes. "I respect your decision, Mer," she placed her hand on her arm.

"Thank you," Mercedes mouthed at Rachel with a sheepish smile.

"I think that I have–"

When Santana resumed speaking, the detective wife sprung to her feet from the chair and rushed into the bathroom, with a hand cupping her mouth, which some nauseated noises were escaping from.

"What the hell?" Santana made a face, staring at the back of Quinn.

"Oh my God!" Tina screeched, widening her eyes at some realization.

"What?" Rachel turned her head to look at Tina with a frown. "What's wrong?"

"She–," Tina took a pause before slowly looking around the girls in the nail salon and letting out her thought, "must be pregnant."

"Oh no," Mercedes gasped.

A few minutes later, Quinn returned from the bathroom. She hastily grabbed her purse from the console table where Santana was still sitting on. "Sorry, I have to go," with that, Quinn stormed out of the nail salon without waiting for the other girls to say something.

The girls shared looks for a moment without letting single word.

Rachel massaged her temple with a forefinger. If Tina was right, the guy whom she had seen at the restaurant could be the father, given the series of events.

How was she supposed to tell Finn about this?

Kurt was still refusing talking to her. Finn was still playing a patient role when he was at home. Quinn and Puck were on the verge of divorce. And now? Quinn might be pregnant? With some other guy?

The opening night of _Funny Girl_ was in two days.

Rachel officially got stressed out.

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**A/N: I promise that Puck and Quinn will **_**not**_** have a bad ending.**

**Please review :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Thank you for reading my story and sending the responses! Rachel gets drunk again! I love a drunk Rachel and love writing it! And the Puckerman's secret is going to be revealed!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee and its characters, and any resemblance to real persons or organizations is purely coincidental.**

* * *

**Chapter 11 – September 2017**

One the way back to the apartment from the nail salon, Rachel had contemplated the way to tell Finn about Quinn's possible pregnancy. She had also pondered as to the reason of Kurt's visit on the day he had ended up walking in on Finn and her in the laundry room. She hadn't ever figured it out because Kurt hadn't told her about it (he was still giving her the silent treatment).

However, before she could have an actual conversation with Finn, her mind had been interrupted by the call from Nancy, her agent/manager, confirming the schedules of the day before/after the opening night. Finn also had gotten busy with the school and the meetings for the Region 9 Art Program fundraising event.

Quinn's pregnancy was just a speculation. Finn didn't seem to see Noah recently, and might not know the married couple was separated, which she had heard of from Tina at the nail salon after Quinn's exit, though nobody could confirm their separation (which meant that it was an assumption as well).

Such being the case, her focus on the opening night had completely overcome the thoughts of the Puckerman's and Kurt.

The revival of _Funny Girl_ was, like, rolling the dice, especially to the investors and the producers. Nobody had believed so far that a next _Fanny Brice_ could beat _the_ character that Barbra Streisand had portrayed—the role had been written specifically for her, after all.

That was a part of the reasons why there had been no preview performances, which, on Broadway, generally would run before official opening nights, let alone no spoilers—the story was taken place in '70s, which was widely known as Broadway's decline era, and the script was revised, especially on the act II, to be more paced-up and humorous.

That was to say, the plot was not a semi-biographical based on the life of _Fanny Brice_, but sort of a fiction of… what if _Fanny Brice_ had lived in '70s? How she could survive? On both of her career and her love life. Well, her love life did end in the same way as the original did, though (the producer Sydney Greene, who had the stage right, cleared all legal hurdles).

So, this was a huge gambling. It might get the fans of the original's upset or disappointed. It might receive harsh criticisms. It might not be categorized as a revival of a show.

Now, Rachel was fifteen minutes away from on stage.

She could do this.

She could do this.

She was Rachel Berry.

Rachel Berry had to be born being the next _Fanny Brice_.

All she had to do was just go onto the stage, channeling her inner comedienne named _Fanny Brice_, and conveying every sense of her emotions into her act, her lines and the songs.

The director Rupert Campion, the writers, the producers, and her cast mates and crew believed in her. That was why they had decided to revise the script for _her_—not Barbra Streisand's _Fanny_. Her_ Fanny_. Rachel's _Fanny_.

She could do this.

She could do this.

Rachel recited like a mantra inwardly over and over again.

Then took a deep breath.

And went onto the stage.

* * *

Three hours later.

After the exchange of blissful excitement with her cast, crew and the rest of the stuff, her agent included, in the hallway of the backstage, Rachel was sitting on a swivel chair in front of a mirror in her green room. Her tiny body still was trembling, getting goosebumps from the standing ovation.

She did it!

"I did it!" Rachel squeaked, doing her tiny dancing.

"You are absolutely a star up there, Rachel," Sydney announced, poking his head through the door. "I bet the critics loved it."

Rachel whirled the chair around, shooting up to her feet to find the producer standing in the doorway.

"Sydney!" she approached the executive producer to give him a hug. "I really, _really_ appreciate you gave me this tremendous opportunity!"

"Now, we're going to have an opening night party," Sydney reminded her, patting her on the back. "Get changed, our new _Fanny Brice_. Everybody's going to want to talk to you there," he said with a wink before leaving her green room.

"Rachela!"

When she was about to return the vanity, she heard one of her dads called her name from the doorway.

"Daddy!" Rachel span around before jumping into her taller father. "Dad!" she glanced at her other dad over Hiram's shoulder.

"You were brilliant!"

"You were amazing up there, Princess," following Hiram, Leroy enveloped his husband and daughter by his longs arms.

"Rachel!"

"That was fantastic!"

Her close friends gushed into her green room in excitement.

However, Rachel couldn't spot the love of her life, his stepbrother, and his parents. The Puckermans weren't there anyhow either. Her searching eyes fell onto Tina who was sporting some apologetic look on her face.

"Where's Finn?" Rachel asked Tina with a frown. "Kurt didn't show up? Is he _that_ mad at me?" she sounded sad, her eyes casting down. "And Carole and Burt are mad at me too?" she looked up over her friends. "And where are Quinn and Puck?"

"Oh, no, no, Rachel," Tina dismissed her idea. "Finn stayed till the end of the show. So did Kurt. But, uh," she glanced at her husband.

"Quinn fainted at the end of the show," Mike informed, standing next to his wife.

"And right before she fainted, she puked onto Finn's lap," Tina quickly added. "So Finn and Kurt took Beth to Burt's penthouse while they were at it, you know, clothes changing."

Rachel nodded in silence.

The Hummel-Hudson housekeeper was babysitting Eli and Tina's and Mike's one year and 9 months old son Daniel for their parents to enjoy the show and the after party.

"You should've seen Lady Hummel when the contents of Quinn's stomach ruined his precious _Prada_ shoes," ridiculed Santana, cracking her heels as she stepped into the green room.

Tina cleared her throat, preventing the Latina from off-track. "And Puck took Quinn to the hospital with Carole and Burt," she continued, nudging Santana's rib with her elbow. "They said that they were sorry, you know," she said, taking Rachel's hand to give a sympathetic squeeze. "But when the medical examination is finished, they'll come join us in the party."

Nonetheless, Rachel's after show exultation completely deflated. Her shoulders plumped down as she plodded to the swivel chair.

She couldn't be mad at Finn, or Quinn either. Yet, she couldn't help but being upset, because she had been waiting for this moment; the moment that was once in a lifetime, the moment to share with Finn.

"Will he come to the party, too?" Rachel asked in a low voice, turning her head around to look in her friends' direction.

"Of course he will, Rachel," Tina promised, rushed over the next chair to Rachel's.

"Yeah," Mercedes furiously nodded, standing behind Rachel. "He will soon be back. I don't believe that he would ever miss the proudest moment of your life. And Kurt? Do you really think that he would miss the opportunity to meet famous theater people?"

Rachel let out a small laugh, but soon she sighed in disappointment. "But Finn can't stay there that long," she looked at her friends in the mirror. "He has a meeting before the school starts tomorrow. He has to get up early."

Tina exchanged a look with Mercedes and the other friends, not knowing how to cheer her up.

"Rachela," Hiram called out, approaching her chair. "Nobody can rain on your parade," he said, placing his hand on her shoulder, giving her a warm smile.

"Hiram's right, Princess," Leroy put his hand on Rachel's other shoulder, squeezing. "This is your moment. Even Finn can't rain on your parade. Not that I blame him for not being here. But," he paused, "I'll be castrating him if you want me to?" he offered seriously.

"Dad!" Rachel gasped.

"Oh, Mr. Berry," Sam chimed in from behind. "I think Finn's been already castrated," he chuckled, which made Mercedes step on his toe as a warning. "Ouch!"

Artie nodded approvingly at Mercedes while the other friends snickered at Sam.

"Alright, guys. Get out of here," Leroy ordered, glaring at the blonde guy. "Rachel has to change," he forcefully pushed Rachel's friends out of the green room before turning around to face his daughter. "We'll be waiting for you in Limo Mr. Greene graciously offered us," he said, approaching her to give her a hug again.

"Okay," Rachel nodded against her Dad's shoulder. "Thank you, Dad, Daddy."

She whirled around her chair to face herself in the mirror. She once again sighed. Then she grabbed a cotton pad from a glass jar to resume removing her make-up.

* * *

"Dude! What the hell? Why do I have to take a shower? I shoulda been there now! I want to see Rachel! I need to see Rachel! Right! Now!"

"Changing your clothes isn't enough," Kurt demanded, violently pushing the large body of his stepbrother into the downstairs' bathroom. "You stink. You still smell Quinn's excreta."

With that, Kurt roughly shut the door close, locked it from outside, and then dragged the nearest console table in the hallway in front of the bathroom door for Finn to not escape.

"Kurt! Open the damn door!" Finn yelled from the bathroom, banging on the door. "If you want to punish me for the other day, do another time, for fuck's sake! This is Rachel's night! 'S gonna ruin it!"

"Exactly my point," Kurt yelled back. "Do you really want to be there? Giving off a stench? I'm sure you don't. And Rachel wouldn't appreciate it."

"Fuck you, Kurt! You're so insufferable!" Finn growled, still banging on the door from inside.

"In 20 minutes, my assistant will bring a nicer suit that I bet Rachel would be all over you. So, suck it up and just groom yourself! And you're welcome," Kurt ignored Finn's remark and left the place to the upstairs' bathroom to clean himself.

* * *

Finally having gotten free from the interviews and making the rounds to greet the very important people for the show, Rachel heaved a sigh from the exhaustion, leaning forward onto the bar. She took a glass of champagne from a bartender before gulping it down.

Soon as she finished the glass, she beckoned him to bring her another glass of champagne—she was feeling a ship lost at the sea, agonizing over the absence of her fiancé at the party. It had been almost an hour since the party had started.

"Hello, gorgeous."

Five flutes of champagne later, a familiar masculine voice interrupted her sixth from being brought to Rachel's mouth. She whipped her head around, the champagne glass halfway to her lips

"I have to say that I got hurt, you know," in a prim manner, the soft brown haired guy leaned against the bar counter, "you didn't invite me to your opening night, so I had to get a seat by myself."

"Jesse," Rachel gave him a sheepish smile. "I thought you were extremely busy with Hollywood stuff."

"Rachel," Jesse made a face before motioning the bartender to get him his drink before turning his attention to her. "I've been in with you for a long time. We once have talked all the night about our dreams. Do you really think that I would miss the opening night of your dream? But, that's fine because this is your night," he said, holding his glass up in the air. "You were really amazing, Rachel. You never fail to blow me away," he winked at her, clicking his flute to hers.

"Thank you, Jesse," Rachel chugged her drink down before turning around to look over the floor where her dads and friends were enjoying and mingling with the other people.

"So?" Jesse mimicked her demeanor, leaning his back against the bar. "Where's your boyfriend?" he glanced at her from the corner of his eye.

"Fiancé," Rachel corrected.

"Sorry, what?"

"Finn now is my fiancé, you know that, Jesse," Rachel huffed, holding her left hand high to show her engagement ring to her ex. "The wedding is in the next month."

"My bad," Jesse said, not bothering to try to sound apologetic. "Now, tell me where your fiancé is? I can't see him here," he scanned over the floor. "Didn't he bother to come witness your most paramount milestone by far? What kind of fiancé is he? How nice and thoughtful of him," he decided with a snicker.

"He came," Rachel defended. "But at the end of the show, one of my friends threw up and he had to go change," she turned around to get another drink. "He'll be here before you know it."

"Well," Jesse shrugged, "until then, you're all mine," he turned around too. "You might not know, but I'll be back on Broadway next year."

Jesse started telling her about a new show which would possibly run in half a year.

But Rachel didn't care about any of it. Or you could tell that she didn't listen to him at all because of the amount of booze she had gotten into her system.

Yes, Rachel Berry got officially drunk.

She totally was going to blame it on her fiancé.

* * *

"We should be get going," Tina announced, approaching Santana and Brittany. "Where's Rachel?" she asked, looking around the floor.

"She went to make the rounds again," the Latina informed. "With Jesse, I don't want to know why," she rolled her eyes. "And she seems completely trashed right now," she jerked her chin in the direction where Rachel was wobbling.

"What?" Tina's jaw dropped open, finding the petite brunette hysterically laughing at something the person standing next to her was saying. But even from afar, she could see that it was not funny, because the expressions of the people who were surrounding Rachel. "How did that happen?"

"Her gigantor of a fiancé happened? He hasn't shown up yet," Santana shrugged.

"He hasn't?" Tina shared a look with her husband.

"Neither has Kurt," Mike pointed to Elliott who was chatting with the show crew across the floor. "According to Elliott, Kurt texted him about 20 minutes ago, telling him that he almost arrived. Kurt demanded Finn taking a shower, let alone changing his clothes."

Tina rolled her eyes before turning her attention to the Latina. "You should keep an eye on her, Santana."

"Are you freaking kidding me?" Santana scrunched her nose. "Why should I do that? I'm having fun with my girl here," she said, draping her arm over Brittany's shoulder. "I'm not her babysitter."

"You know how she can be when she's drunk!" Tina hissed.

"Of course I do," Santana responded nonchalantly. "It'll be definitely enter–Oops!" she arched her eyebrow, seeing the new Fanny Brice.

Brittany, Tina and Mike shot their heads around to follow Santana's gaze.

"Oh my–" Tina gasped, cupping her mouth with a hand, eyeing in Rachel's direction. The rest of the people at the party also drew their attention to the petite brunette, whose beautiful shiny pink dress now was covered by wine and chocolate.

And every one of them was too dumbfounded to move their legs. They all fell on a silence for a moment.

"Is that Jenny?" Santana narrowed her eyes, intently looking at a blonde girl.

If Santana's eyes weren't wrong, the blonde girl, who seemed to work as a waitress for the party, for sure had stumbled over Rachel _on purpose_.

* * *

Rachel widened her eyes when some liquor and food fell onto her chest. She looked at the waitress who ran against her with her tray. Her eyes even got wider to find the waitress was Jenny Landstrom of all people.

She didn't know how Jenny ended up one of the waitresses for the party. But, that was beside the point. And even in her drunken state, she was pretty sure that Jenny had done it intentionally because she was sporting a smug face right now.

With a couple of blinks, Rachel slowly looked over the people gasping at what just had happened to their _Fanny Brice_. Out of the corner of her eyes, she spotted Finn and Kurt finally entering the floor.

Finn's presence dragged her into the reality.

She looked down at herself for a second before clearing her throat, pulling herself together.

"Oh, you wanted me to sign my autograph?" Rachel smiled at Jenny sweetly before changing color. "But, I'm afraid that I can't. I mean, I won't," she declared in a loud voice so that all the guests at the party could hear her.

Then she started.

"No autographs please," she held up her hand in the air at Jenny before closing the distance between the blonde waitress and her. "You think beautiful girls are going to stay in style forever?" her lines of _Fanny Brice_ echoed the entire floor clearly. "I should say not!" she looked over the party floor. "Any minute now they're going to be out! Finished! Then it'll be my turn!" she pointed to the blonde girl with a sharp glare before beginning her performance a cappella.

**Who is the pip with pizzazz?**

**Who is all ginger and jazz?**

**Who is as glamourous as?**

**Who's an American beauty rose?**

**With an American beauty NOSE?**

**And ten American beauty toes?**

**Eye on the target and wham!**

**One shot, one gun shot and BAM!**

**Hey you little witch Jenny!**

**Here I am!**

When she finished with opening arms, she basked in a lot of applause from the people, cheering, whistling and clapping their hands.

Honestly, Rachel didn't know how she had managed to do that since she was so close to a stupor from the alcohol. But she had done that anyhow. She made a dramatic vow at all the party guests before straightening up herself and beckoning the security along with the words 'take her out.'

On account of her singing, her head started throbbing. Nonetheless, she gave the guests one last smile before announcing.

"I'm so glaaaad y'all did loooove this show too," Rachel slurred. "But the night is still young," with wobbling legs, she snatched another flute of champagne from a waiter who happened to pass by her. "So," she held the flute high up in the air, "let's get the party continued! Yay!"

Receiving the applause again, she made a vow once more before retreating to the bar receiving another round of applause from the guests.

* * *

"Baby," Finn rushed into the bar, turning her around to face him. "Are you alright? What happened?" he said, rubbed her arms up and down.

"You're late," Rachel pouted, swatting his hands away from her. "And it was your faaauuult that bitch was here!" she irrationally accused.

"Huh? What're you talking about?" confused, Finn asked, trying to calm her again with his large hands on her shoulder. He could tell that she was drunk since she would never use the b word when she was sober.

"This," Rachel pointed to her own dress. "She ruined my dress! And you were at fault since you were not here," still pouting, she turned to the bar, gesturing to the bartender to get her another drink.

"Whoa, whoa, Rachel," Finn shook his head at the bartender not to bring her drink. "You should change, and no more booze."

"Why?" Rachel's nose started flaring. "This is my night! I can do whatever I do! You have no right to tell me what to do!" she repeatedly nudged his chest with her forefinger, though her eyes unfocused.

"Rach–"

"Don't," Rachel shushed him, holding her forefinger up, before smiling at the bartender, telling him to get her hard liquor. "You know what?" she turned her attention to Finn. "Quinn's pregnant," she blurted out, her eyes half opened. "I'm sure that was why she threw up."

"What did you just say?" Finn asked, looking at his fiancée dumbfoundedly.

"This shouldn't have happened if you had been here," ignoring Finn's question, Rachel continued, plopping down on the floor.

Finn looked down at her in disbelief before roving around to make sure nobody watched them. If she were sober, she would never sit on the ground directly without a blanket, or a mat, or whatever things kept germs from her butts, especially in this kind of attire.

"You should've been," Rachel hiccupped, "here if Quinn didn't b-b-baaarrrf," Rachel started giggling. "Barf. Barf. Barf. Doesn't it sound funnier? BAAARRRFFFFF. Oops!" she cupped her mouth as she burped. "Buuurrrp, baaarrrrfff, buuuuurp, baaaarrrrrfffff," she furiously giggled at herself.

Finn dropped his head down with a sigh before crouching down. "Alright, Rachel, you really have to go to the ladies room," he decided, scooping her off the floor.

"Quinn wouldn't have baaarrrrfed if she didn't get pregnant," Rachel continued rambling against Finn's chest, still giggling at the sound of the word 'barf.'

"And Quinn wouldn't have been pregnant if," she took a pause as she spotted the exact same back view of someone whom she had seen with Quinn at the restaurant the other day when Finn carried her out of the party floor to the quiet hallway. "That homewrecker!" she pointed to the figure with her forefinger. "Put me down! Put me down!"

Finn struggled to hold Rachel in his arms because she thrashed her arms and legs about against his body. So he complied with her demand, depositing her down on the ground.

The second he put her down, Rachel trotted into the guy who she thought the one at the restaurant.

"Rachel!"

Finn called out, trying to stop her, but to no avail. Rachel already reached her arms to the guy. And much to his surprise, she attacked him from behind.

"The fuck?" the guy shouted as he was falling sideways onto the ground by the impact.

"You!" Rachel yelled in an accusing tone, climbing the guy's body to hit his head. "Quinn wouldn't have been pregnant if you didn't exist! Oh!" she halted her hands.

"Rachel!" Finn called again, realizing what Rachel had referred to. "He's not _him_! He's–"

"You–" Rachel held her tongue before looking up at a woman with wide eyes staring at her dumbfounded. "Hello, Quinn," she looked down at the guy, "hello, Noah," she shifted her gaze to the other people standing by Quinn. "Carole, Burt."

"The fuck?" Puck repeated, shaking Rachel's hands away from him. "Get your ass off of me," he demanded, trying to get to his feet.

With her mouth wide open, Rachel eyed Puck's head which his trademark Mohawk had gone.

"Weird, right?" amused at Rachel's series of demeanors, Burt chuckled. "I didn't recognize him at first, either," he said, and then, much to Puck's displeasure, he ruffled Puck's new hair. "What happened to your dress, by the way?"

"So, you were the one to be with Quinn at the restaurant?" ignoring Burt's question, Rachel asked as she also got to her feet. But she sounded confirmation than asking. "The one to fornicate with her on the upper floor from the bike shop?"

Carole and Burt exchanged looks, not understanding what Rachel was getting at while Quinn turned crimson.

"What're you talking about?" Puck pretended.

"And you're the father, aren't you?" Rachel kept going before eyeing Quinn. "You're pregnant, right? Quinn? That was why you pu–"

Before Rachel could finish, she stopped herself from speaking, feeling sick in her stomach.

"Oh, no," Finn noticed Rachel was going to throw up. He reached his hands to Rachel's shoulders from behind in an attempt to pull her away from Puck.

"Fuck!" Puck jumped backward, sensing Rachel was going to vomit.

However, neither Finn nor Puck could make it.

Whether intentional or not, Rachel completed the vengeance on Puck's wife for Finn's absence right after the opening night by puking on Puck's dress pants.

And once Rachel finished vomiting, she fell backward.

"Rachel!" Finn caught her before she could completely fall.

Now Rachel passed out in Finn's arms.

Finn stared at his parents for a moment while Puck who was looking at himself in horror and Quinn couldn't hold her giggles at her own husband.

Finn sighed, shaking his head.

But he should be relieved. There were no press, no VIPs in the hallway at least. And no vomiting onto his own pants this time.

* * *

**Please review :)**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Thank you for reading my story and sending the responses! In case those who don't know about Jenny, the details about her were referred in the chapter 8 of 'The Boy Next to Door.'**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee and its characters, and any resemblance to real persons or organizations is purely coincidental.**

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**Chapter 12 – September 2017**

Kurt was pissed.

Beyond pissed.

Why the heck did he have to deal with this _again_? He already had missed the chance to get in a Limo from Winter Garden Theatre because of Quinn's reflex (and because of it, he had been forced to throw away his brand new _Prada_ shoes that he had put on them only twice!).

In addition to that, his opportunity that he thought he finally got to grab to create a broader range of personal connection with theater people, especially with costume department, was stolen! And this time, he even was not the one to be covered by someone's (Rachel's) vomit!

"Kurt," Burt said, practically dragging him from the party floor into the desert hallway, Elliott following them with a sympathetic look. "I'm not asking you to help him clean up. I'm merely asking you to get something for him. And for Rachel. You scratch their back and they'll scratch yours."

"Puck's an adult," Kurt retorted, carefully holding his flute of champagne not to be spilled. "I highly doubt that he can't take care of himself," he sighed, "Why me? Why do I always get involved in these kinds of drama? My champagne has been untouched yet!" he exasperated, waving his hand up in the air to let out his frustration.

"You sometimes are in the center of drama, aren't you?" Burt chuckled, but soon he closed his mouth, seeing his son's nostrils flaring.

"Kurt, baby," Elliott draped his arm over Kurt's shoulders. "Some blonde waitress ruined Rachel's dress," he shook Kurt's shoulder a little, trying to calm his boyfriend down. "She needs something to change into."

"Good. That dress was criminally horrendous. She should thank to whoever it was," Kurt snorted, his empty hand on his hip. Out of the corner of his eyes, Puck was bitching at Finn and an unconscious Rachel. "And Puck deserved it. His wife ruined my _Prada_ shoes!"

"Don't you think that you'll have a great opportunity to show off your prowess in fashion at the private party? _At Mr. Greene's penthouse in Upper West Side?_" Elliott punctuated.

Kurt eyed his boyfriend, raising one of his eyebrows. "Can we go?"

"We're going to make party migration to his penthouse with them," Elliott said, nodding. "Rachel's the leading role. She can't afford to _not_ be there," he said, exchanging a glance with Burt who seemed impressive at Elliott's tactic.

"Hmm," intrigued, Kurt tilted his head to one side, tapping his chin with a forefinger with a thoughtful face.

"I'm sure Rachel would appreciate it and introduce you to every one of the people over there," Elliott quickly added.

"Fine," Kurt decided after a long good minute.

Kurt stood in the hallway away from Puck as far as possible, pulling his cell phone as a last resort. He scrolled the phone to find the data of which every one of his family members' and friends' clothing and shoe sizes had been saved. Then he made a phone call to have his assistant get another pairs of attire for Rachel and Puck, contemplating how he had Rachel repay him for this and his PTSD from the laundry room incident.

* * *

Finn found the spacious ladies room on the upper floor in the party venue to take care of Rachel. Luckily, the ladies room was empty and had a lounge chair that someone tiny like Rachel could get laid down on at full height.

Once he got her on the chair, he took the handkerchief that his mom had thoughtfully shoved into his pocket right before he took Rachel out of the hallway. He dampened it as he glanced at his zonked fiancée over his shoulder.

"Finn? Are you there?" Nancy, Rachel's agent, poked her head through the door of the ladies room. "I've got you something," she announced, entering the ladies room before standing next to Finn. "Toothbrush, tooth paste, obviously. Listerine," she showed the items one by one, taking them from the paper bag, before placing them on the vanity. "Water, coffee, and some food, as well, for both of you. You haven't eaten anything yet, have you?"

"Thanks, Nancy," Finn smiled appreciatively.

"Sure thing," Nancy patted Finn on his arm. "I gotta go. I'm going to tell Sydney that Rachel is a bit late for his party," she said as she was about to leave the bathroom.

"Uh, Nancy?" Finn stopped her as she tried the door handle. "May I have the address? Mr. Greene's?"

"Oh, are you coming too? Rachel told me that you couldn't–"

"I think," Finn interjected as he returned to the chair on which Rachel was still unconscious, "I'd better come with her, or at least take her to Mr. Greene's house, you know, making sure she's okay by herself."

Nancy nodded understandingly. "Then I'll text you later."

"And one more thing," Finn shifted on the edge of the chair. "Do you happen to know who she was? The one that caused Rachel's dress like this?" he gestured to Rachel's wine stained dress.

When Finn had stepped into the party floor, his attention had immediately been drawn onto Rachel's performance and not to the waitress. But, if he had remembered correctly, Rachel had switched the lyrics from _'Mr. Keeney'_ to _'you little witch Jenny'_—he almost remembered every lyric and line from _Funny Girl_, thanks to almost 4 years living with Rachel. And given the fact that Rachel had slurred _'it was his fault that the bitch was here,'_ the waitress was definitely _the_ Jenny who he had once dated in high school, who had almost ruined his life, ruined his trust in women.

"I don't know her name, but," Nancy took a pause before chuckling, "she seems like one of, you know, 'aspiring actresses,'" she air-quoted. "And I've heard that she's a mistress of one of the producers, who's been trying to have him get her a role or something," she shrugged. "Maybe she thought that making a scene was a good idea to get some attention? The kind of thing you hear about every day in this industry."

Finn frowned, still feeling something was missing.

"I really have to go, Finn," Nancy wrenched the door open. "If there's anything you need, just call or text me, okay?"

"Yeah, thanks. Again," Finn called out to her retreating figure.

He knew that the official after party was coming to an end and the most of the cast and crew were going to the next party, the private one that the executive producer Sydney Greene was throwing at his own penthouse, which Rachel of course had to participate in.

Finn, on the other hand, was supposed to be dismissed when the official after party ended. But now he had to reconsider it.

For one, it was impossible for him to leave Rachel in this state. For two, he hadn't shared anything with Rachel yet, thanks to the Puckermans and Kurt. For the last, why the hell was Jesse St. Jackass at the party? And he was pretty sure that the douche was going to Mr. Greene party too.

Yep, he might have missed seeing Jenny's face, but he hadn't missed the smug face standing nearby Rachel when she had reproduced a part of _Funny Girl_. Didn't Rachel tell him that she hadn't invited the douche to the opening night and party?

Unexplainable anger started bubbling up from his stomach.

There was no way in hell that he could leave the Jackasshole alone with Rachel at the private party!

He decided he was going to come with Rachel there at any cost. Screw his sleep! Screw the school meeting next morning!

He, though, was definitely going to take Rusty out for a walk however late (or early) to be home because Rachel would kill him if he would neglect their dog.

* * *

"Is it just me? There was a very familiar face when I was in the back room to fetch a bottle of water."

Santana, Mercedes and Sam whipped their heads up to find Quinn sauntering in their direction.

"Quinn! Are you alright?" Mercedes sprang to her feet from the chair for Quinn to take, assuming that the reason the blonde woman had fainted was because of her pregnancy.

"Where's Puck?" Sam looked over Quinn shoulder, but nowhere could he spot no-more-Mohawk detective.

"I'm fine now. Thank you for asking, Mer," Quinn smiled appreciatively at one of her best friends, perching herself on the chair Mercedes had offered. "And Puck's waiting to be delivered extra clothes in the hallway. Rachel threw up on him."

"Good for her," Santana chuckled. "And no. It is not just you. I'm pretty sure it was Jenny."

"Jenny? As in–"

"Yep," Santana nodded before Sam could finish. "The infamous Jenny Landstrom," she completed as she beckoned Brittany who was chatting with Artie and Kitty across the floor, letting her know it was time to head for another party.

"Why was she here of all places?" Quinn frowned. "What was she here for in the first place? The last time I checked, she was a stripper at some bar." Her husband knew all too well about strip clubs in New York because of his job.

"She was one of the waiting staff, and she was the reason why Rachel performed in a drunken state," Santana shrugged, taking a compact out of her purse to prepare herself for the next party.

Quinn seemed not to follow any of it, so Mercedes filled in.

"Sounds like she's still the same Jenny as she used to be," Quinn decided, scrunching her nose in distaste. "Did she do that on purpose?"

"I'll bet she did," Santana scoffed at whatever the bitch was planning. "And judging by some head honcho stopped the security to take her out from the party, the guy must have fixed her up with the job here," she nodded to herself, smelling something. "There's more that I have to dig up," she added under her breath.

"Aren't you going home, Q, by the way?" Mercedes chimed in. "Because, um," she hesitated, "did you by any chance get pregnant?"

Quinn let out a sigh. "So you knew it," she looked over the table. "Everybody seems to already know it. But," she held her hand up in the air before Mercedes could continue her not so subtle interrogation. "It's not what you think, Mer."

"I know," Santana turned her head to see Quinn. "You're expecting another Puckermans, right?"

"But aren't you two separated?" Mercedes eyed Quinn quizzically before shifting her gaze to Santana. "How did you know? Why do you sound so sure?"

"You and Lady Hummel might have missed, but I saw Puck following Quinn into the building where had a bike shop facing the street, you know, from the cab the other day," Santana confessed, poking her tongue through her mouth comically.

"What? Why didn't you tell us?" Mercedes looked at Santana incredulously. "You should've told us!" she raised her voice angrily. "Then we wouldn't have worried on the pointless speculation!"

"Where would there be fun?" Santana responded in a boring tone. "Whoa, chill out, 'Cedes," she took a defensive posture when Mercedes poked her in the shoulder. "It's not like Q was cheating on Puck. You should be happy for her."

"Or for Puck to get some actions," Sam chuckled. "Given what I've heard, you and Puck were RPGing, weren't you? Like, the one written in the book Santana gave 'Cedes?" he asked in eagerness, mentally noting that he would make fun of Puck the next time he would hang out only with the boys.

"I can't believe that you showed him my _Kama Sutra_!" Santana accused Mercedes with a sharp glare. "That's not for those who have a dick for God's sake!"

"I don't think I'm the only one to know about the book," Sam defended his wife and himself. "So does Mike. And I'm sure Puck does too," he said before turning to Quinn. "Am I right, Quinn?"

"Do you really think that I showed the book to him?" Quinn rolled her eyes. "What do you think would happen if I would?"

"Got pregnant?" Sam chuckled. "By RPG?"

"Shut your trouty mouth, Ken Doll," Santana shoved Sam by the shoulder before turning her attention to the blonde guy's wife. "You really have to get him schooled from scratch."

Massaging her temple with a forefinger, Mercedes couldn't decide whether she should retort to the Latina or be embarrassed at her husband's insensibility.

* * *

Finn practically jumped on the lounge chair when the ladies room's door flung open.

"What the hell?" Finn hissed. "You're not supposed to be here–" he stopped himself. He couldn't help but burst out laughing as he saw at the intruder lumbering into the ladies room. "What the fuck are you wearing?"

"Fuck you! Fuck Berry! And fuck your Lance Bass of a brother!" yelled Puck, who was wearing a pair of off-white half pants, pale blue shirt with a pink tie, navy blue jacket covered by full of white polka dots, light brown shoes without socks, and a Ben Hogan matched color to his shoes on his head.

"You already graduated from the Mohawk. So why don't you try to do something different from now on? Like wearing those clothe? Or swinging for the other team on this occasion?" Finn mocked, not bothering to suppress his laughter.

"Oh, unlike you, I'm irresistible to all kinds of human being," Puck snorted as he approached him. "Here you go," he shoved a pair of high heels and a garment cover into Finn's hands violently. "To Berry, from Hummel."

As if on cue, Rachel cracked her eyes open and suddenly sat upright from Finn's lap (and drunken slumber), which caused Finn to get daunted a bit and almost drop the garment over from his hands. She rubbed her eyes with a hand as she got stretched out before scanning the room to figure out where she was at.

"Oh, hello, Noah," her eyes fell on the police officer before she burst into uncontrollable giggles. "You look like Blaine!"

"That's it!" Finn's eyes lit up, feeling good to get something that had been stuck in off his chest. He now remembered Blaine was wearing almost the same clothes on the downstairs. "Only if it were a bow tie," pointing to Puck's pink tie, he joined Rachel's giggling. Now their faces were closing the distance as if they kept some sort of secret from Puck.

Puck scrunched his nose at the lovely-dovey couple. "They say that dogs resemble their owners. It goes for you two as well," he mumbled in disgust. "I gotta go," he shook his head, leaving the couple still staring at each other with giggles in the ladies room.

Finn sat up straighter when the sound of the door slammed shut before looking over the room only to find Puck was gone. "Um," he scratched his cheek, returning to the reality, "you should brush your teeth, Rach, before joining Mr. Greene's party," he jerked his chin in the vanity's direction. "And Nancy brought you a cup of coffee. I know it's getting cold, but it'll be working."

"Why do I need to brush my teeth? Do I need to use the coffee?" Rachel frowned, tilting her head to one side, wondering. "Oh!" with some realization, she cupped her mouth, another series of giggles leaving from it before scrunching her nose at her own bad breath. But soon her face turned to a smile. "I'm drunk!" she announced, shooting up to her feet before twirling with outstretched arms. "Finny! Look, I'm drunk!" she continued twirling.

Until she felt sick.

Again.

"The room's spinning–" she stopped herself from twirling before rushing into the vanity to throw up.

Again.

Finn dropped his head with a sigh.

This was going to be a long night.

* * *

Thanks to Nancy's thoughtfulness, Rachel got sober up (well, half-sober, actually, but better than before) by the time Finn and her arrived at Mr. Greene's party. Once they entered the sumptuous penthouse, Finn immediately and carefully scanned the floor. Sure enough, Jesse St. James was having a chat with some people from Rachel's show, leaning against the mantelpiece in some artificial manner.

Rolling his eyes inwardly at the Jackass _graceful_ demeanor, Finn led Rachel in the other direction to make her stay away from her ex.

Much to Finn's dismay, however, Jesse spotted Rachel when they were about to turn around from his direction. And on top of that, he had the audacity to call–

"Rachel! My love!" Jesse called out as he swaggered to them, which, of course, made Finn grit his teeth.

"Hello, Jesse. Nice to see you again," Rachel greeted cheerfully as she spun around to find her ex getting closer to them. She still sounded intoxicated, but at least seemed a happy drunk (Finn wasn't sure it was a good thing or bad one though).

Finn reluctantly turned around as well to see the smug face. "Jesse."

"Finn," Jesse narrowed his eyes at Finn. "I thought you weren't coming?"

"He's my designated driver," Rachel slurred before Finn could open his mouth, caressing his cheek fondly, which made him automatically smile. "No,no, my bad, I was wrong. He's not because we're going to grab a cab to get home. So, he's my escort. Oh, no! That sounds inappropriate," she giggled at herself. "He's, um," she abruptly stopped giggling, tilting her head to one side to ponder. "He's my, uh, designated-walker? Is that a word? Care-giver? Rachel-sitter? Oh, he often calls me baby so a babysitter? It's not bizarre, is it?" she nodded to herself. "Anyway," she looked up at Jesse, "Finn's my fiancé, obviously," she giggled again.

"So I've heard," Jesse said apathetically, still looking at Finn with hostility. "Good for you," he gave Finn a false smile before turning his attention to Rachel with a genuine one (Finn rolled his eyes, or course). "So you changed, huh? You looked beautiful in that pink dress, but much more beautiful in it, Rachel."

She was now wearing a strapless and mid-thigh length orange dress, which her slight amount of boobs was peeked out from the top. Her shiny hair was flawlessly and sexily into a messy bun.

"Rachel's always beautiful," Finn protectively draped his arm over her shoulders, pulling her closer to him. Then he placed his lips to her nape, not aware that he earned St. James' eye roll.

"Finn!" Rachel giggled. "It's tickling!" she slapped his chest playfully before turning her head toward Jesse. "Kurt picked this dress for me. Oh, look! Kurt's here too! Kurt! Kuuuuuurrrrrrt!" with that, she skipped in Kurt's direction with waving hand, leaving daunted Finn and chuckling Jesse alone on the spot.

Finn pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. Yet, if Kurt (and Elliott, and Santana, he could see her out of the corner of his eyes) would be beside Rachel, he shouldn't be worried too much, right? Because, they all knew about the past between Rachel and Jesse and who this douche was.

But still, he should keep an eye on her, making sure she kept herself away from Jesse and booze.

* * *

How did he end up this?

How long had he been here?

Oh, yeah. He remembered. After Rachel had left him and Jesse alone, Finn had decided to stay close to Rachel's ex for a while, so that the douchebag couldn't get closer to Rachel. Then somehow, he and Jesse had ended up sitting on the couch side by side. And Jesse had started blabbing out as to how his ship in the form of actor's career was smoothly sailing, how successful he got in Hollywood, and some shit, while Finn was downing booze one after another (because he couldn't lend an ear to Jesse without booze). Those were not that important to Finn, so he hadn't paid any attention much.

But when the Jackass had started the show on Broadway he was planning right now in which he wanted to include Rachel, Finn had had no choice but to pay his attention to him—what he was up to this time.

"You know, Finn," Jesse started, leaning his head against Finn's shoulder.

Finn got tensed, looking down at Jesse's head on his shoulder in horror. He was surprised to say the least. Even though he was in a tipsy state, and even though Jesse was tipsy too, there was no way in hell for him to need this intimacy with him whatsoever.

"Have you ever seen _Gouttes d'Eau sur Pierres Brulantes_?" Jesse continued.

"Huh? Uh, can you speak in English, please?" Finn asked, trying to shake Jesse's head off of his shoulder.

"The movie. Directed by François Ozon? _Water Drops on Burning Rocks_? Based on the unpublished play written by Rainer Werner Fassbinder?" Jesse slurred, leaning his head against Finn's shoulder. Again.

"Um, no?" Finn shifted on the couch uncomfortably.

"I thought so," Jesse, somehow, let out his words as sugarly as possible. Then he started telling him the plot summary of the movie. "I'm now working on a new show inspired by the book. And you're not like Léopold, not even his age, but, you know, how actors approach their roles," his lips upward uncannily. "What do you think, Finny?"

What the fuck? Finn shuddered. The douche wasn't allowed to call him Finny, nobody was, other than his mom and Rachel! And he was most certainly not going to help the Jackass to prepare for the role named Franz (and he didn't like his idea to drag Rachel into the play as a role of Franz girlfriend named Anna, not because the douche was his ex, but she had to perform only in a bra and panties almost all along)!

However, Jesse dared to start playing with Finn's shirts buttons this time. Naturally, Finn swatted Jesse's hands away from him, but to no avail since Jesse forcefully grabbed him by the collar.

Dumbfounded, Finn jumped backward, but which only caused the douche's head to fall onto his lap, correction, his groin. His GROIN!

EWWWWWWWWWW!

YUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCKK!

GROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSS!

And if someone would see them right now, he or she would think of them as a couple, a gay couple. Don't get him wrong. Finn was definitely not opposed to homosexuality. He had a gay brother and his fiancée had two gay dads—they were an American family!

But this? This was wrong.

So. Fucking. Wrong.

When Finn tried his best to pull Jesse's head away from his groin, he heard the snore sounds from the asshole's lips at the same time the sounds of chuckling from across the room.

He shot up his head to see in the sounds' direction.

Only to find Santana of all people chuckling _and_ filming them with her cell phone! And next to her, Kurt was laughing at him _hard_, holding his sides.

"Santana!" Finn yelled at her as he sprang to his feet from the couch, not caring about the Jackass' head falling onto the ground (he got completely trashed, so who cared?). "Give me the phone!" he yelled again, making a beeline for the place Santana was standing. "Give me that! Give. Me. The. Damn. Fucking. Phone!" he stretched his long arm out to her hand.

However, Santana immediately shoved her phone into her off-limits area, smirking at him triumphantly.

"I didn't know that you were interested in the other team," Santana jeered, wiping underneath her eyes with a thumb, as if she had laughed into tears.

"I'm not," Finn growled. "And don't forward the footage to anyone, especially Puck." If Puck found it out, he was never gonna hear the end of it.

"I'm not making any promises," with that, Santana walked out of the place, leaving Finn and Kurt.

"Don't worry, Finn," still chuckling, Kurt patted Finn on the back. "I snapped Puck in the attire that I brought him to change into," he said, showing the screen of his cell phone to Finn, trying to comfort him.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Do you really think that the picture of Puck in Blaine-like clothes could beat mine to it?" Finn asked skeptically before shaking his head. "I'm outta here. I'm going home. With Rachel," he declared.

Then Finn pushed Kurt on the shoulder to make his way toward the other room to look for his fiancée.

It was past 3 am. He had only 3 hours left to get up.

He shuddered again, recalling the Jackass' head on his groin.

Maybe he had no time to sleep. But he wanted to cuddle with Rachel in their bed to purify his body.

* * *

**Please review :)**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Thank you for reading my story and sending the responses!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee and its characters, and any resemblance to real persons or organizations is purely coincidental.**

* * *

**Chapter 13 – September 2017**

"Finn! Get up!" Rachel tried to wake Finn up for the umpteenth time.

Finn grunted against his pillow before rolling himself over on the bed, his arm over his eyes. He could see her crossing her arms from the underneath of his arm. Judging by the illuminance of the room, it was still early. Even for taking Rusty out for a walk.

"Rach," he sighed. "Can you let me sleep a little bit more?" he pleaded before rolling over onto his belly, burying his face in the pillow.

Rachel stared at Finn for a moment. She knew that Finn had been busier in weekdays because of the planning for Region 9 Art Program.

"Fine," she blew her bangs and then turned on her heel, deciding to let him off the hook. She glanced at Finn over her shoulder one last time before grabbing the dog run kit from the floor. "But you should be getting up by the time I'm back from the dog park. We only get to do this together in Saturdays," with that, she left the bedroom.

Shortly after Rusty's happy bark and the click sound from the front door of the apartment had vanished, Finn heard some footsteps nearing the bedroom.

"Good morning!"

A familiar chirpy voice along with the sound of door open waltzed into the bedroom. Finn knew whose vice belonged to; another (extreme, he must add) early-riser of the Hummel-Hudson-Berry clans.

"Kurt," Finn let out a deep sigh before lifting his head toward in his brother's direction. "I might have accepted your _generous _offer to supervise this whole thing, but it doesn't mean that you can walk into our bedroom whenever you want. What if I was having morning sex with Rachel?"

"I saw her at the downstairs, so I knew that it couldn't happen again. And don't," Kurt shot a sharp glare at him as a warning as he perched himself on the bed end storage, "dredge up memories of traumatic incident."

Finn suppressed the urge of eye-roll. Instead, he fake-yawned for a long moment. "You should know," he tried to sound exhausted, "I'm still suffering from Cardigan Rhythm Disorder." _Nice save, Hudson!_ He inwardly nodded to himself in satisfactory with pulling off his best acting skill and greatest excuse in his entire life.

"Circadian," Kurt corrected with a scoff. "Really, Finn? Is that the only excuse you could come up with? Out of packing up for the relocation?" he rolled his eyes as he stroked Mr. Bonaparte's fluffy hair. "You've been also talking your way out of my Boot Camp and dance lessons since you had a mild concussion. But that's not gonna work this time," he chided. "There was just one day that you had lack of sleep. The opening night after party was four days ago."

Finn growled in response, starting to regret allowing his brother in charge of their re-relocation. He buried his face in the pillow once again, trying to prove how determined he could be to his brother.

"Fine," Kurt decided, getting up from the storage ottoman. "You can lie down there as long as you want to. But don't complain about it later," he said as he started to go through the bedroom, not bothering to be quiet.

Finn didn't mind Kurt in charge of redecorating their Chelsea apartment, well, unless the fashionista didn't turn a deaf ear to what _they_ wanted, of course. Besides, Kurt orchestrating the decoration thing had been set long before the laundry incident.

But this was totally another story.

At first, Finn couldn't comprehend at all how Kurt helping their re-relocation had to do with getting his emotions healed from the incident. Now he totally understood. To Kurt, this was the perfect atonement and retaliation for it.

Finn rolled into sideways on the bed. His half opened eyes followed every move Kurt was making, studying for a moment as to what exactly his brother was doing in their bedroom.

Like Rachel, his step brother was full of vigor for such early morning (except for when they suffered from hangover, like the next morning after the parties for the opening night of _Funny Girl_). Finn's mind started to wonder how they did it.

Finn had been astonished to say the least when Rachel had once shown her calendar of her high school and college years. It had looked like all booked up, highlighted by various colors, from early morning exercises to night rituals (she had even made the every night list to fall asleep). And now he could check her schedule which seemed always full for another three months, even aside from her show and the related works (Finn had gotten their iCalendar in sync and shown her how to use it since Rachel and digital tools didn't mix).

That woman seemed physically never exhausted, even when she put herself into minute-by-minute schedule.

As for his step brother, his job was by no means quieter than anybody else's. Yet, no matter how busy he seemed with it, he always managed to squeeze spare time, like, hanging out with his friends, shopping, going spa, going some cooking school, and Finn's nightmare—Kurt-Hummel Grooming Boot Camp—into his schedule. He had even started to learn guitar recently, influenced by his boyfriend Elliott.

The more Finn tried to remember his brother's daily life and habit, the heavier his eyelids got (because they had almost nothing in common). He almost tuned out the noises Kurt was making. To go back to get some joyous sleep, instead, he tried to recall the early morning after Mr. Greene's party (By the time they had headed for their apartment, their roles had gotten completely reversed; Finn the drunken one, Rachel the sober one. Not only had Rachel comforted him all the way back home in a cab, but even given head before he had gone to work! His girl was amazing).

Before he could completely close his eyes, however, the letters 'TOSS' on a yellow Post-it attached to Rachel's small bedroom vanity forbade him taken over by his euphoria.

"Whoa, whoa, Kurt, hold on," Finn cried, sitting upright on the bed. He scanned the room with his heavy eyes to find yellow and red Post-it on all the furniture; 'TAKE' on red ones, 'TOSS' on yellow ones. "What're you doing? Toss? You're going to throw that away? Rachel would kill you when she finds it out! And that," he pointed to the plaid arm chair, "is one of the stuff that I got with my own money in collage!"

"We made a deal, remember?" Kurt folded his arms across his chest. "Rachel already agreed on getting a replacement for it. And that," he jerked his chin up toward Finn's old arm chair, "is not gonna fit for my interior design scheme. The color's faded, not to mention dusty and dirty. Look at those stains!" he scrunched his nose in disgust as he eyed the smudges which seemed from beer or something like that. "How could she let you keep it for so long?" he said with a shudder before turning around to resume what he had been doing.

"We can't afford to buy new furniture for the old one!" Finn protested, yet still in the bed.

"First of all," Kurt whirled around, his hands on his hips, "I might have been spoiled over the course of growing up, like, my dad letting me buy designer's clothes. But I'm not an extravagant person as you would think I am. I perfectly have a grasp on how much of a budget you have. And if you must know, some of the replacements or new home goods are from us, as our wedding gifts."

"I, uh," Finn shifted on the bed uncomfortably, hearing that his brother and the other friends would get them new furniture or home goods. That couldn't be of low-priced. "That's very grateful of you all. But I think it seems a bit too much for you guys to be asked for."

"Oh, come on, Finn. What are families and friends for?" Kurt waved a hand dismissively. "To give is more sheer pleasure than to be given. Especially on occasions like weddings. You of all people would know that about me. Don't you remember how I got when my dad's and Carole's wedding happened?"

Of course Finn remembered.

Kurt had been like he was the one to get married. He had bustled about the preparation days and nights (yet, he had still managed his own schoolwork) while Finn, on the other hand, had been having mixed feelings (the idea of his mom having another love of her life had been bugging him for a while). Finn understood now why Kurt got so excited about weddings. His brother would see that wedding was the great opportunity to be shared with brides and grooms happiness. That was exactly why Kurt always got excited. He loved to show his gratitude to the marrying couples.

"Well, as long as it won't bother you much," was all Finn could respond. "But thanks."

"Of course not," Kurt gave him a _who-do-you-think-I-am_ look. "And you're very welcome. Now, get up, Finn! Get your backside out of there! Quick, quick!" he snapped his fingers. "And start packing! Rachel will be back at any minute!"

With a final groan, Finn reluctantly rolled off the bed to give in.

* * *

"Look, Finn!" Rachel pointed to one particular picture, which was of Finn wearing Lady Gaga costume made of multiple red shower curtains, in Finn's photo album. "I still clearly remember when we first had a dinner together in Mrs. Weston's apartment," she giggled at her memories.

Finn plopped down next to Rachel in front of the book shelf, peeking into his own album over her shoulder before chuckling. "Oh, yeah. I do too. I still clearly remember your most embarrassing moment," he smirked at Rachel. "You know, I feel sorry for Tony," he made a sad face, placing his hands over his heart for dramatic effect. "I'm pretty sure that you traumatized him."

"Finn!" Rachel slapped his arm lightly "I was eight years old! And you can't _'git mareed'_ with a person who can't write my name correctly!"

Finn's chuckles were getting louder and louder as he saw Rachel looking like she still took the letter seriously.

Huffing, Rachel flipped through the album, trying to change the subject. And she came up with something when she found another picture of him of the time he was in high school.

"This!" Rachel pointed to the photo, eyeing Finn. "Why don't you re-do this?" she suggested.

"Hmm?" Finn looked down at the picture, which was taken during one of the rehearsals at the glee club. And in which he and his team mates were disguising as Kiss. "That was one of the best kickass moments in Glee," he grinned at the memories, not realizing what Rachel was suggesting.

"So, agreed that you'll perform at the fundraising event for Region 9 Art Program?" Rachel pressed.

"Huh?" Finn turned his attention to her. "Come again?"

"I think you should perform this at the fundraising event," Rachel repeated. "You know, you guys, I mean, teachers should be participating in the performances as well," she tilted her head to one side, staring at him expectantly.

"Well," Finn rubbed the back of his neck to hesitate the agreement, because Rachel and the others who would perform there were all professional.

"Elliott would love this idea!" Rachel clapped her hands excitedly while Finn was still contemplating. "You should do it! You're a great singer, let alone a great drummer. And I want to duet with you! Not that I'm saying that I will be one of these face painted musicians. Please? Finny?" she pleaded with puppy dog eyes.

Damn it. He really was a sucker for those eyes.

"Okay," was all Finn could say.

Rachel shrieked, clapping her hands again, before jumping into him, which caused him (them) to fall backward. Finn took advantage of the moment. To get some action, he slid his hands into her tank top while Rachel was sucking his face.

Much to his dismay, however, some alarm sound interrupted them going further.

They shot up their head to look in the sound's direction, only to find someone, the forgotten guy in their West Village apartment, standing there, crossing his arms (Was he holding a portable alarm or something in his hand?), and fuming.

Rachel immediately climbed out of Finn, giving Kurt an apologetic look while Finn sunk down on the floor with a groan.

Kurt closed his eyes for a moment, massaging his temple with fingers to compose himself. "Rachel Berry," he calmly said as he opened his eyes, "you should be preparing for work," he pointed to his watch on his wrist. "And Finn Hudson," he shifted his pointed look from the petite brunette to his brother. "Don't let me tell you this again. No PDAs in my presence."

"We were just kissing!" Finn protested.

"Yeah, yeah," Kurt rolled his eyes. "Like you weren't mauling her breasts," he mumbled.

"I wasn't mauling her boobs, just caressing them!" Finn corrected.

"Sorry, Kurt," Rachel chimed in. "We just caught in the moment. We didn't mean to be exhibitionists," she gave him a tight smile before turning to Finn. "Finn, I have to go. We can do tomorrow where we left off," she gestured to the shelf. "Or tonight, if you know what I mean," she said in a low voice with a wink at him, trying to not get caught by Kurt, which he totally did.

"Ahem," Kurt gave her a look again, still crossing his arms.

Rachel shrugged comically before disappearing into the bedroom.

"I'm out too," Finn declared, pushing himself off the floor.

"What?" Kurt looked at him in disbelief. "But we haven't finished yet! Besides, I was planning to–"

"Kurt! I'm not going to the men's salon!" Finn yelled.

"I'm not saying that you should shave down there," Kurt explained. "I know already that you got shaved your pubes," he wrinkled his nose in disgust before quickly adding under his breath. "By Rachel at the bachelorette party," he shuddered before clearing his throat. "You should get moisturized. I bet Rachel would love your soft skin."

"You sound like Hiram Berry," Finn mumbled.

"I take it as a compliment," Kurt decided, forcefully pulling Finn up from the floor.

When Finn thought back and forth, Rachel emerged out of their bedroom. She approached Rusty playing with his toy beside the couch. She knelt down to pet him before getting to her feet and giving Finn a kiss on his cheek. "See you later," she said as she squeezed his butt.

"Bye, baby," Finn grinned, lightly slapping her butt.

Kurt rolled his eyes (again), shaking his head before following Rachel in the doorway. "I can't believe you guys. How could you still stay like horny teenagers? I and Blaine were like an old married couple six months after we started dating. We didn't have an unscheduled make-out session–"

"Wait, what?" Rachel widened her eyes, dumbfounded. "You scheduled make-out sessions?" she asked as she grabbed her key from the console table. "Don't tell me that you and Elliott schedule those kinds of thing."

"Gladly, no. I've learned lessons. But I and Elliott are not like you. We're more mature and controlled lovers. Only with passion. Like yesterday, when we were at the restaur–" Kurt stopped himself from continuing, realizing what he was about to confide to his future sister-in-law.

Rachel giggled, seeing him blushing. "I'm glad to hear that."

Kurt cleared his throat, pushing his bangs aside from her forehead. "Well, anyway, I need the pictures of your childhood for the rehearsal dinner. So, I'll take your albums and Finn's home, okay?"

"Sure," Rachel nodded.

"Rachel?" Finn strolled in their direction. "I'll pick you up at the theater around the time the show finishes," he decided before eyeing his brother. "The place we're going is close to the theater, right?"

"Where are you planning to go?" Rachel asked, double-checking through her purse if she had everything to need in there.

"Men's salon," Kurt answered for Finn.

Rachel picked her head up to see her fiancé quizzically. "But you don't need manscaping at a salon anymore."

"I know he doesn't, Rachel. You don't need to remind me of that," Kurt dismissed her idea. "He's just going to be moisturized."

"Does it need?" Rachel made a funny face. "He's fine without being moisturized. More than fine, actually," she said, her hand unconsciously reaching to Finn's cheek to caress.

Finn's lips went upward with her touch. "Yeah," he nodded before turning his head to look at Kurt triumphantly, "does it?" he repeated her words.

"Yes, it does," undaunted, Kurt firmly responded. "Rachel, you'll thank me later, trust me."

"You sound my Daddy," Rachel was still sporting a funny face. "But, well, okay. Then enjoy being moisturized," Rachel shrugged. "I really have to go. Bye, Kurt. Bye, Finn," she gave Finn one last kiss on his lips before leaving the apartment.

Finn dejectedly let out a sigh, seeing her off of the apartment. But soon his eyes lit up when something popped up to his mind. "You know what? I can see she'll thank you in her green room!" His implication sounded like a kid on Christmas.

"Eww," Kurt scrunched his nose, seeing that Finn was talking about. "Please, save your breath," he said in annoyance, walking back into the living room.

"Says the guy who used to fornicate in Blaine's green room," Finn snorted. "We're continuing there what we have been interrupted in the living room! With my super soft skin!" Finn repeated, yelling at his brother's retreating figure, just to retaliate by the interruption of his sleep and make-out session.

* * *

The next night, after the matinee had finished, Finn and Rachel were sitting with Hiram and Leroy Berry in the Hudson-Hummel apartment in Upper East Side instead of in their own one. Since the opening night, Rachel's fathers had been staying in the City (they had been weeks off from work due to the upcoming wedding) and Burt and Carole had offered one of their bedrooms as accommodation.

"How's everything going?" Carole asked Rachel as she handed one of the dishes out to her husband.

"It's going quite well, mostly because of Kurt. It's really helping," Rachel smiled up at her before scooping a big pile of sautéed chicken breasts with mushrooms before placing it onto Finn's plate. "And I really appreciate that you let my fathers stay here," she said, turning her head to her fathers, with her big eyes getting them to show their gratitude to her near future mother-in-law and father-in-law.

"Yes, yes," Hiram nodded, sitting straighter on his chair, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "We–"

Before Hiram could continue, however, Carole waved her hand dismissively. "Don't ever mention that, Hiram. _We_ are extremely grateful for all that you've done for us, actually," she said, sitting on her own chair, before turning her attention to Rachel. "Hiram cooks for us every night. And tonight is no exception."

"No wonder they are so familiar," Rachel looked over all the dishes—other than sautéed chicken breasts (which used to be Leroy's favorite and happened to Finn's too), grilled zucchini succotash and Tabbouleh salad (mostly for Rachel and Hiram himself while Finn refused to have the latter), baked cod (Rachel thought that was for Burt and Leroy due to their health conditions), etc.

"How are you, by the way?" Hiram turned his attention to Finn. "You look, hmm," he took a pause, placing his chin between the thumb and forefinger to ponder for a moment. "How am I gonna articulate? Coruscating? Yep, coruscating."

Puck (Finn didn't really get why, oh, why he of all people joined his family dinner) burst into laughter as he heard Hiram's sentiment. "Mr. Berry," he started between chuckles, "he took your advice and now moisturizing became his night ritual."

Finn inwardly cursed at his step brother. Kurt had told Mercedes, Mercedes had Quinn, naturally. And, of course, Puck had heard from his wife (which meant that all his friends knew about it for now, he just knew it).

"Oh, really?" Hiram's eyes lightened up. "I'm honored," he placed his hands over his chest dramatically. "Let me tell you the secret of a long and happy marriage. Never go to bed without moisturizing. Bet you thought I was going to say _'Never go to bed angry,'_" he winked at Finn.

"Okay," Leroy rolled his eyes before clearing his throat. "Let's get the conversation moved on," he announced, turning his head toward Puck. "I've heard your beautiful wife was expecting another child? Congratulations!"

"I've never imagined that Quinn would have three kids before 30 years old," Burt said, munching his chicken. "I don't know how she does this, you know, she has a successful career despite she got impregnated in college by this rascal," he said, ruffling Puck's head roughly. "And now she's expecting another child. She has to handle, practically four kids."

"So? Did Quinn move back to your house? In Bronx?" Burt bluntly asked before looking down at his plate where Tabbouleh salad was already served. He shot up at his wife, but plumped down his shoulder, re-acknowledging how determined Carole could be.

This time was for Finn to burst out laughing. "No, Burt. They were never separated," he smirked at his best friend. "You just didn't know how good he could be at playing doctor. At her office or her company's property."

"Shut the fuck, Hudson!" Puck spat, ignoring the surrounding he was in. "I know you and Berry got it– OWWWWWWWWWNNNNNN!"

Rachel kicked his sin as hard as she could before he could finish his sentence (Well, he did, after all. But at least she could distract their parents, couldn't she?).

"The fuck? Berry?"

"Hmm? What's wrong with you? Oh, you want to talk about your men's salon experiences? I bet my Daddy would love to hear that," Rachel responded nonchalantly before wiping her mouth deliberately with her napkin. She folded it neatly and placed it on the table.

"Oh, really? I'm surprised that you've been to men's salon, to be honest," Hiram eagerly asked, bending himself forward against the table.

"Hiram, believe me, he frequents men's salon," Finn chimed in, giving an evil smirk at Puck. "He knows every single salon in the City as well as Kurt does," he added, ignoring Puck's glare.

"Wow," Hiram seemed impressive. "Which salon did you go? When do you have a day off? Can I join you the next time you go there?"

Feeling a bit sorry for Puck, Carole got out of her chair and asked, looking over the table. "Dessert? Anyone? With coffee? Or tea? Anything else?"

"Oh, I'm coming to help you, Carole," with a smile, Rachel stood up from her chair too before crouching down a little to whisper in Puck's ear. "Don't bring up our night life in our parents presence!" she warned, pinching his arm.

"He started it!" Puck shot back, violently shaking her hand off.

"No. _You_ started it!" Finn assisted as Rachel walked away from the dining room. "And why the hell are you doing here anyway?"

Puck glanced in the kitchen's direction over his shoulder, making sure that Rachel was out of their earshot. "The bachelor party, final meeting while watching the ball game in the living room. The other guys are going to be here at any minute. And then we're gonna finalize it. You can join us, if you want."

"But how about Rachel? I can't send Rachel out alone at night!"

"Chill out, Huds," Puck continued in a low voice. "Aretha and Santana are coming to pick her up here too."

"Oh, okay," Finn let out a relieved sigh. "Then I'm in. I want to hear the details."

Now all the banters forgotten, his mind went to various directions.

The bachelor party was almost there!

* * *

**Please review :)**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Thank you for reading my story and the reviews! The bachelor party has come. Finally!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee and its characters, and any resemblance to real persons or organizations is purely coincidental.**

* * *

**Chapter 14 – October 2017**

Today was the day that Finn had been looking forward to the most other than the wedding: The bachelor party!

The Puck's one had been so much fun (of course, strippers involved). All the participants, including Finn, though, had been too trashed to remember the details of the party and afterwards, to be honest.

Not that it had been awful comparing to _Doug Billings'_ (thank God, for lack of _Alan_ type of friends), they somehow had ended up paying for the damage of the walls (by whoever of them had caused) at some strip club in Bronx (the club owner had known Puck very well and decided not to press charges against anyone).

What had made unforgettable the most was, Puck had had to stand at the altar with a black eye for whatever the reason (Nobody had been never able to figure it out, either. Regardless to say, Mr. and Mrs. Fabray still hated the guy's guts). Or worse, he had gone through Quinn's silent treatment during their honeymoon in Venice and Florence. In Rome, their final destination, Puck allegedly had managed to put her back in a good mood.

But who knows it was true? Nobody understood how they worked out, given that Quinn was now expecting their third child after her long refusal of copulating.

Mike's one had been clean. Very much clean, so very Mike. Nevertheless, it had been fun too. His parents had offered his (actually, Mike's grandfather's) summer house in Vermont for his bachelor party. Not only had they played golf, but enjoyed fishing, BBQ, _Call of Duty_ marathon, and poker over the night (what was better, Finn had been the winner of the night, and he had got about 500 dollars!).

Sam's one had been so… blue. Literally blue. Yes, it was the color. Yes, it was Sam's obsession; the _Avatar_. Everybody's resistance in vain, Sam's college club fellows (Association of the study of _Avatar_, of course) had been in charge of everything of his bachelor party. And they had been forced to be painted by the blue color all over their faces and bodies to disguise themselves as the characters of the movie, just to play the fucking paintball.

Seriously, though. What was the point for them to be painted by the blue color all over their faces and bodies if they had to put the helmets with human hairs and blue body suits on during the games? How long did Sam think that it had taken them to wash off the blue paint? And all the signals should be spoken in the language of _Na'vi_? C'mon. Seriously.

Anyway.

Now was Finn's turn.

Finally.

As the starter, accepted by Finn's request, Mike had managed to get his father to offer one of the party suites at the Yankees Stadium that his company owned. Finn was a Mets' fan rather than Yankees', but they had no choice because the Mets sucked this season. So, all the boys—Finn, Kurt, Puck, Sam, Mike, Artie, Elliott, Blaine, Dave, and Spencer—had been there in the afternoon. They had really enjoyed the first game of the playoffs against the Detroit Tigers with a fantastic view. Even Kurt had been thrilled (mostly because of his first suite experience).

The finest moments for Finn at the suite were that every one of Kurt's attempts at hindrance to his intake of a lot of beer and greasy food had failed, and of course that the Yankees had gotten a walk-off win.

The second part was Artie's idea; Laser Tag. The suspenders enthusiast deified _Barney Stinson_, despite the fact that he had never worn suits on a daily basis. Puck was the eagerest one to play Laser Tag, though he decided that the TV show was some shit for chicks when Artie referred to his idol. The no-more-Mohawk even bragged that the writers of the show had stolen the idea of Bro Code from his college years' experiences (earning snorts and eye-rolls from everyone, of course).

Kurt, on the other hand, didn't seem pleasure of playing Laser Tag, like, at all. It was understandable for the other guys, though. Unlike the other gay friends, Kurt hadn't ever played violent video games or sports for that matter (except for the one and only time that he had played football as a kicker when he had still been in the closet).

"Okay, I'm done," Kurt pushed himself off the ground right after he had gotten shot from behind, by one of the same team—Puck, who was laughing his ass off right now. "Yeah, yeah. You can laugh at me all you want, Puckerman!" he yelled, stepping out of a metallic barrel before adding under his breath, "You'll be sorry for that later."

Kurt took his vest and phaser off before redoing his hair deliberately. "I'll be waiting for you guys out there," he declared, pointing in the locker room direction. "I have to check our limo and restaurant reservations anyway," with that, he disappeared into the locker room.

"Dude! The fuck? Are you nuts?" Finn shoved Puck by the shoulder violently. "He's on the same team!" he whisper-shouted. "You just gave Spence's team 2000 fucking points for nothing!"

"Spence's got shooting accuracy. Kurt would've gotten in our way, anyway," Puck said in a low voice nonchalantly with a shrug before forcing Finn to hide behind another barrel. "But I'm way better than Spence. Just watch and learn," he grinned, roving around to resume the game.

Little did Puck and Finn know that this was all planned out by Kurt (actually, by Santana). Kurt had been willing to get shot by Puck or someone else whether he was on the same team with Puck or not.

"Now I'm all by myself," Kurt whispered in his cell phone in the locker room.

_Say your prayers, Puckerman!_

* * *

Soon as Rachel entered her green room shortly after the show finished, her cell phone in her purse rang loudly. "Hello, Santana," she greeted once she swiped the screen to put the phone on speaker.

"_You're sure you won't be coming?"_

"I told you. I have a matinee tomorrow. I need my beauty sleep," Rachel responded, her voice sounding slight annoyance because this was the thousandth time Santana asked this week. Besides, her face was still smeared with her sweats and heavy make-up from the show. She grabbed her make-up remover from the vanity, keeping her speak. "Why so persistent?"

"_Because you'll love this."_

"Why don't you just spill the beans? What are you guys gathering for?" Rachel asked as she started spreading out the remover on her entire face.

"_Public viewing."_

"Of what?" Rachel stopped her hand for a second. "If you mean Artie's another experimental short film, I guess I'll pass."

"_Possibly somewhat, you can say that. But specifically no. it's not Artie's another shit screening. It's kinda reality show. Or better, it's a live coverage, if you must know."_

"But about what?" Rachel frowned, roughly pulling tissues. "What makes you guys so enthused?" she asked as she heard her other friends yelling at Santana's phone to encourage Rachel to join them.

"_Let's say that it's my version of _Punk'd_."_

"Your version of _Punk'd_?" Rachel sat up straighter on the chair, putting two and two together. "And it's a live coverage? Don't tell me that you're gonna sabotage Finn's bachelor party!"

"_It's not sabotage, Rachel. I'll even let them enjoy massive tits in their faces."_

"What? In their faces?" Rachel widened her eyes, almost dropping the bottle of her remover from her hand. "I thought they would just watch the jello wrestling to have some fun. Finn will be wrestling against girls in the jello pool? Oh, no. No, no, no!" she stared at the phone screen in disbelief.

"_Relax, Berry. It's not like he'll be actually having sex with those wrestlers. It's a bachelor party. Let him bury his face in what you don't have before he gets on your ball and chain."_

"I'm highly offended, Santana! I _do_ have boobs!" Rachel yelled at the phone screen with a huff, wiping her hands with tissues.

"_Yeah, yeah, whatever."_

"Alright, I'm in," Rachel decided. "Tell me what time and where the public viewing happens," she grabbed a piece of paper and pen to write down the place and time.

"Uh-huh. I'll be there in an hour."

* * *

"Here's the rule," Puck patted Finn on the back. "You have to bet on each bout. And when you lose, you down a shot."

"And when I win?" Finn asked. He sounded already intoxicated because of a lot of beer from Yankees Stadium and the booze from the dinner at some fancy restaurant. "Can I wrestle Rachel?"

"That's not gonna happen here," Puck scoffed while Sam chuckled at the groom. "Here, drink this up," he offered a shot glass of Tequila for Finn.

"Why can't I?" Finn whined, but downed the shot nonetheless. "I wanna wrestle with Rachel."

"Yeah, yeah," Puck rolled his eyes. "You can do whatever you want to with Berry, but only after the party, not now. You just enjoy the last night of free-Berry."

"You don't answer my question," Finn pouted, fiddling with the yellow sash on which was written _'Bachelor at Play.'_ "What would I get if I win the bet?"

"You get another shot," Sam answered for Puck, offering another shot for Finn. "And another rule, the groom-to-be can't ever refuse hootch whoever offers during the party."

When Finn was opening his mouth to retort, the crowd roared loudly along with a referee's announcement.

_First bout, we gain in 127 poooooounds, the former WMW champiooooon Haaaaaaleeeeeeey Rooooooosemaaaaan. Aaaaaaand–_

The referee pointed to one particular young female among the crowd.

–_ladies and gentlemen, 22 year-old, college student, Jaaaaamiiiieee Hancooooooooccccck frooooom Neeeeew Jeeeeeerrrrrseeeeey!_

The second that the girl named Jamie was introduced to the crowd, she stepped out of it, pulled her tank top over her head and took the rest of her clothes and shoes off. The party goers gave loud wolf-whistles and hands claps to her who was now only clad in a bra and panties.

"Damn!" Artie cried out. "Goers involved?" he shimmied with excitement. "I'm so stoked right now! What are we gonna bet on?"

"The champ tears that girl's bra off, and her tits are completely revealed, 5 bucks," Sam declared, slamming a 5 dollar bill on the bar counter.

"Oooohhh, I like that," Artie rubbed his hands together. "I'm in that one," he pulled out his wallet to take a 5 dollar bill out. Mike reluctantly followed Artie while Finn and Puck bet on the girl's panties instead of her bra.

"Woooooo, that cheeky look like Rachel's," Finn gestured to Jamie's panties. "You know what cheeky is?" he turned his head right and left to see his friends' reaction. "I know what it is," he puffed up his chest proudly, "because I've been panties shopping with Rachel, um, uh–" he tilted head to one side before counting days and months with his fingers.

Meanwhile, the other guys, the gay guys, of Finn's friends and brother were standing across the floor, mostly because it was much easier for them to direct their cameras in the form of the tin badge _'We're Groomsmen'_ to the straight guys. They chuckled, seeing them getting excited with the jello wrestling.

"Why on the earth do straight guys get so turned on by cat fights?" Kurt shook his head before sipping his white wine.

"I actually like to see two or more women making out," Blaine responded nonchalantly with a shrug.

"Really?" Spencer turned to look at the gel haired guy in disbelief. "You swing both ways?"

"I'm not saying that I get turned on when I see make-out between girls," Blaine amended. "And I'm gay, 100% gay. I've kissed a girl in high school, twice, and that actually made me convince it."

"Do you know what Puck's favorite movie is?" Spencer looked over the gay guys before eyeing his partner who was now vigorously laughing at the groom's drunken state.

"I'm sure that is one of the action ones, bib boobs involved," Kurt snorted. "Or rather, does he watch movies?" he doubted.

"Nope," Spencer simply answered before confiding. "Puck loves _Black Swan_."

"Woooo, I get it," Blaine gave the shaved head detective a smirk.

"I get it, too," Elliott nodded. "He loves it because of Natalie Portman and Mila Kunis lesbian scene, right?" which he earned Spencer's thumb-up.

"I understand why," Blaine continued. "That was actually hot. I guess Puck would love _Chloe_, too, then. You know, a remake of _Nathalie…_," he chuckled. "It's for guys like Puck, you know, who are attracted to older women too."

"I prefer Amanda Seyfried if I had to choose to fuck–"

Kurt wrinkled his nose at his ex's current boyfriend's comment.

"–but Julian Moore is kinda MILF, I guess," Dave continued. "We would watch those kinds of movies together," he draped his arm over Blaine's shoulder with a grin. "But we would watch gay movies, too."

"By movies, you mean porno," Kurt murmured with an eye-roll, keeping taking a ship of his wine.

"Alright, I don't need this conversation, you know, vagina involved. So, top 5 gay movies of all time. Go," Spencer changed the subject while keeping an eye on the guys across the floor, well, not so much, because all they had to do was their bodies directing to Puck.

* * *

"How did you manage this whole thing?" Rachel slid herself in the round sofa next to Santana, looking over the crowded floor—where the large screen was set up.

"Artie," Santana simply answered. "Don't be so surprised, Berry," she said, seeing Rachel sporting a quizzical look all over her face. "Sam, Mike and Artie got so pissed off about what Puckerman forced them into at your bachelorette party. They're _so_ on. Now Kitty, as a switcher, is waiting for my cue at their apartment with Tina," she informed, placing a plug attached to her cell phone into her ear.

"Switcher?" Rachel returned her gaze with wide open eyes. "You mean, you hid multiple cameras in the jello wrestling club?"

"Actually, all the guys, except Puck and Finn, _are_ wearing the cameras," Santana said after a swig of her shot. "Oh, hey, Quinn! 'Cedes! You made it!" she held her hand up in the air to let Puck's and Sam's wives know their presence.

"Wait, Finn doesn't know? Why?" Rachel leaned forward against the table, starting worrying about what could possibly happen to her fiancé. "Aren't you going to hurt or humiliate Finn, are you? Please tell me you're not going to do such a thing!"

"Chill out, Berry," Santana patted Rachel on the shoulder before offering her untouched shot glass for the petite brunette to have. "Finnocence will be fine. Our one and only target is–"

"My idiot of a husband," Quinn finished Santana's sentence, perching herself on the sofa on the other side of the Latina while Mercedes took a vacant spot next to Rachel.

"I have the strict discipline of alcohol intake during the shows. So thanks, but no thanks," Rachel stubbornly shook her head, pushing the glass back toward Santana.

"Boring," Santana made a face. "But fine," she pulled her shot glass before downing it.

Ignoring Santana's comment, Rachel turned her attention to the blonde. "You don't mind your husband being pranked? Finn told me that he had ended up exposing his genital on the stage. Isn't it enough for him to be punished?"

"You are damn soft on Puckerman," Santana quipped.

"I'm not!" Rachel protested. "I-I just feel sorry for what I did to him, you know, I threw up on him at the party the other night. That's it."

"Oh, don't feel sorry about that, Rachel," Quinn replied matte-of-factly, waving her hand dismissively. "He needs to stop infantile behavior before this baby is born," she gently rubbed her still flat belly. "I hope this would be some drastic measure."

Santana nodded affirmatively. "He sabotaged your bachelorette party, Rachel. Sure, he exposed his own gun on the stage. But the fact remains that he robbed our opportunity to get entertained by REAL strippers. Who the hell wants to see Puckerman's dick and Hudson's incompetent dance?" she held her hand up to the blonde before quickly adding. "No offence, Q."

"No taken," Quinn shrugged.

"Finn's dance is not incompetent! He's an adorable dancer!" Rachel huffed, her arm crossing in front of chest.

"Whatever," Santana scoffed with an eye-roll.

"So? How's everything going?" Mercedes cleared her throat, not wanting pointless argument. "When does it get started?"

Santana glanced down at her wrist watch before lifting her head up to look over the girls with a grin and announcing with her outstretched arms.

"Now it's show time!"

* * *

"Next bout," the referee dropped his gaze at his clipboard in his hand. "Woooooo, we have a special guest here!" he announced before lifting his head to look over the crown. "We've got a groom-to-be, 221 lbs, music teacher at elementary school, ladies and gentlemen, Fiiiiiiiiiiinnnn, Hudsooooooooooon!" he pointed to one particular 6' 3" in the crowd.

Finn, who got really drunk thus far, roved around to search for a guy who had been mentioned, oblivious to the fact that the guy the referee had called was actually himself.

"Dude!" Puck slapped Finn on the back of his head. "Go get some naughty bits!" he shoved him forward, which caused Finn to stumble.

"Rachel's tits?" asked Finn over his shoulder with slurring tongue. "I can wrestle Rachel?"

However, Puck couldn't pick up the words Finn had said because the crowd got loud once Finn was forced to step forward.

"Okay. He's a huge. Now we need two, no, THREE girls against him! Who wanna rumble this guy?" the referee scanned over the crowd, placing his hand above his forehead.

And about ten to a dozen of the girls in the crowd eagerly raised their hands.

"Alright, cutie pie over there," the referee pointed to a soft curly red haired young girl. "And sexy kitten over there," next he pointed to a tall brunette librarian kind of woman. "And you, sweetheart," lastly he pointed to a blonde girl with long legs.

Then the referee grabbed Finn by his shoulder, whispering in his ear. "By the way, remember you keep clean to make it through. Okay? You aren't allowed to touch some specific areas, you know, nipples and vaginas," he warned and pushed him into the jello pool before making his declaration to the crowd. "And the winner or winners get 5 grands!"

Puck smirked. This was going to be legendary. If the ladies took off all the layers of Finn's clothes, not only did Finn have to expose his Finnkfurter to every one of the party goers (of course, he was going to film it), but he could get 1000 dollars from the girls.

"Alright, now I'll bet 10 bucks on Finn," Artie said, shifting his gaze from Puck to Finn, who now was standing in the middle of the jello pool, but seemed to have no idea where he was.

"Ten bucks on the girls winning," Puck said, pulling out his cell phone from the back pocket, preparing to take some pictures of his best friend's embarrassing moment (and to use them to get Berry pissed).

Artie rolled his eyes before turning his head toward Sam and Mike. Before he opened his mouth, however, one of the club staff struck a gong and the crowd got much louder for him to keep the conversation with his friends.

The three girls literally jumped in Finn's body at the same time the gong was rang. One of them tried their best to pull his sash and T-shirt off over his head while the others began unbuckling his belt.

Finn, somehow still holding his shot glass in his hand, fell on his backside in an attempt to shake the girls' hands off his body.

"Ooofffff," Finn moaned from the pain of his ass. Then his half opened eyes shifted to his surroundings. "Um, what is– Ggggggrrrrr."

When Finn was opening his mouth to ask something to the girls around him, one of them put her forefinger with full of jello into it, which made him gag and cough hard. However, once he stopped coughing and swallowed the jello, his eyes lit up.

"It tastes strawberries!" Finn declared with a grin. "It tastes like Rachel!" he repeated before looking around to see two girls, who now were smearing the jello all over his naked upper body. "Where's Rachel?" his eyes were unfocused. So, he squinted, trying to see clearly what was going on in front of him.

Totally unaware that the other girl with redhead succeeded in pulling his jeans from his legs, Finn poked his forefinger in one of the blonde girl's boobs before his nose. "Hmm, too big, too fake," he slurred before turning his head to the other girl's boobs. "Oh, your boobs look like Rachel. You know, my Rachel's boobs are like–" he tried to make air-boobs with his hands to recreate Rachel's breasts on his chest.

"Rachel would kill us if he keeps doing that," Mike shouted in the ear of Sam, who was chuckling at Finn. "Now it's time. Do it!" he shoved Sam by the back as hard as possible toward the detective who was filming with his cell phone.

Sam purposely wobbled and stumbled toward Puck, pretending to be too much drunk before dragging him in the pool's direction. "Oooooppppsss!" he cried out as he shoved Puck into the pool violently.

_Gong. Gong. Gong. Gong._

"The fuck?" Puck pulled his face from the jello pool, removing sticky contents from his eyes.

"Stop!" the referee called for intervention, crouching down, placing his hands to one of the blonde girl's arm to prevent her from pushing Finn's boxers down. "This is not two platoons," he shook his head, glaring at Puck. Then he got to his feet, looking over the crowd. "What is the first rule about the jello wrestling club?" he said, cupping his ear with a hand to ask the crowd.

"_You DO NOT fight unless you are called!"_

"Say what?" the referee asked again, his hand still behind his ear, encouraging the crowd to get louder.

"_You DO NOT fight unless you are called!"_

The referee nodded in satisfactory. "And if you break the rule?"

"_You HAVE TO fight!"_

Puck pushed himself off the pool to get to his feet. But he couldn't be mad at Sam. Fight? Fight some girls only clad in bikini or undergarment? He plastered a smug face. Bring it on. He thought. He was willing to do that.

When Puck was about to enter the pool again (where Finn was still sitting in a total drunk while all the girls were forced to get out of), however, the referee stop him. "You need to change," he demanded.

"What?" Puck arched his eyebrow. "Change? What the hell are you talking about? Nobody has changed to fight here!"

"You broke the first rule. I don't think you want to break the others," the referee said in a threatening tone.

"And if I refuse?" Puck challenged.

"You're gonna pay 5 grands, or the guys over there," the referee jerked his chin toward the direction where three men like Ving Rhames in _Pulp Fiction_ were standing, "might be beating the shit out of you. You choose."

"You should know that I'm a cop," Puck closed the distance between him and the referee.

"So? I've not committed any crimes whatsoever," undaunted, the referee spat, "yet."

"Fine!" Puck held up his hands in the air.

The referee nodded to the big guys, getting them to follow Puck into the back room.

Over his shoulder, Puck glanced at Finn, who Mike, Artie and Sam were pulling out of the jello pool, thinking whatever he had to put on, it couldn't be worse than at Berry's bachelorette party. Besides, he was going to jello-wrestle with girls in a bra and panties. He shrugged as he pushed the back room door.

* * *

Much to Mercedes' relief, her petite brunette of a friend was sleeping (and snoring), placing her head on the table, while the footage of her fiancé was playing on the screen.

By the time the third bout had started, Rachel got bored and felt exhausted from the show. With her finals words 'What's so interesting about the jello wrestling? I don't understand,' she fell asleep.

Rachel might not get mad at Finn since her giant of a fiancé had been too much drunk to take the girls' undergarments off. Yet, if she was still awake, she got fumed and jealous of some girls in this bar.

"Oh, look! He's cute," one of the female customers squeaked.

"Dammit! We would've seen his junk if that guy didn't interrupt!" another girl with blonde spat.

"How big do you think his dick is?" the other woman with short hair asked her friends with a grin.

"You know, he's a very very tall guy, so," the first one giggled frantically. "He would give me the best mind blowing sex that I've ever had."

"He shouldn't get married, you know. He should share his tool with as many girls as he can," the blonde seemed upset.

"Those girls are way too overrating Hudson's junk. Just because a guy's tall, was not that he has a big fat dick," Santana snorted, ignoring Mercedes' eye-roll. "Besides, size doesn't matter. I bet they've never gotten guys who know how to use their tools and they don't know how to have them swing their bats correctly, either."

Mercedes shook her head and rubbed her temple with a forefinger as she heard them objectifying the petite brunette's soon-to-be-husband. She glanced at Rachel out of the corner of her eyes, hoping that she would keep sleeping until the sun came up.

* * *

The fuck?

Why the fuck are those here?

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Puck spat, turning around to face the three big security guys. "Why the hell should I wear those?"

"You broke the rule," one of the security guys answered calmly, crossing his arms, a big dragon tattoo glaring at Puck.

"It was an accident," Puck also folded his arms across his chest.

"It doesn't matter," another guy stepped forward. "5 grands or what?"

"Shake a fucking leg," the other guy grabbed the costume that looked very alike the one which Puck had been forced to wear at Berry's bachelorette party. He now realized that this was all planned out by… Hmmm, not Berry, but some of her friends. Berry loved to make a plan, but not a prank, an elaborate prank.

Puck gritted his teeth, clenching his fists beside his body, not only because he was the one to get punk'd, but because his prank toward Finn had failed. But now his brain wasn't functioning rightly because of booze.

"Alright," Puck held his hands up in defeat before snatching the costume from one of the security guys' hands.

With or without this costume, at least he could get some girls stripped.

* * *

"Alright, now our final bout," the referee broke the silence, eyeing the back room door directed multiple spotlights on. "Our neighbor, ladies and gentlemen, Noah Puckeeeeermaaaaaan!"

The second the referee pointed to the back room door, all the party goers roared with whistles, shouts and hands claps, anxious to see what costume he was on.

Puck, who was wearing a black faux leather cock pouch, studded harness crossing his bare chest, a police hat on his head, slammed the door open in a sullen manner. Yet, it made only the crowd get louder, boos included.

The referee glanced at Puck with a smirk for a second before turning his attention to the crowd. "Given that he swings on that way, we need a guy who would like to tangle with–" he took a pause before announcing. "Fuck it! All of the guys who would like to tangle with him, take off your shirts and get on the boat!"

Puck widened his eyes, freezing on the spot.

All the gay guys (except Kurt, Elliott, Blaine, Dave and Spencer, of course) took off their shirts and pants and kicked off their shoes as quickly as they could, and literally and eagerly attacked Puck's body.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Mike, Artie and Sam shared high-fives as Puck's figure disappeared under the drooling guys.

As for Finn, he was completely tuned out the uproar in the club. He fell fast asleep, placing his head on the bar counter, dreaming about jello-wrestling with Rachel in some big pool at somewhere.

* * *

"Mission accomplished," Santana smirked, pulling her plug out of her ear. "The wheel is come full circle."

* * *

**A/N: Though I say it myself, poor Puck. :(**

**Please review :)**


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